


A Different Path

by ekwtsm



Category: The Streets of San Francisco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 80
Words: 160,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ekwtsm/pseuds/ekwtsm
Summary: Everyone's life takes an unexpected turn at some point; it's how you handle it that makes you the person you become.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

“So Norm and I picked up another new one last night,” Homicide Sergeant Dan Healey cleared his throat, glancing up from the open notebook in this hand and briefly meeting his superior’s stare, taking focus in the small crowded office. The babble of voices died down as the other Homicide detectives turned their attention to him and his dark eyes shot in his partner’s direction before he continued. “A 27-year-old Puerto Rican gas station attendant was shot to death over on Divisidero in a robbery last night. Some guy getting gas found the body a little after one. No witnesses… at least none we,” he included Sergeant Norm Haseejian in another quick glance, “could find at that hour. We’re going back tonight to see if anybody saw anything and we’ll canvas the next few nights as well but it’s gonna be a hard one. We may have to ask for the public’s help on this one.” He flipped the notebook shut and shrugged with a derisive exhale. 

Lieutenant Mike Stone took his right foot off the open lower desk drawer and sat forward, lacing his fingers and resting his forearms on the edge of the desk. He nodded, pursing his lips, and looked up at the grim faces staring back at him. “Okay, fellas, thanks for the updates. It looks like it’s going to be another busy week so don’t let me keep you,” he smiled, raising his eyebrows. 

There were chuckles and grins as the plainclothes cops drifted back into the bullpen, heading to their respective desks. Mike glanced up at the young man leaning against the file cabinet beside the desk and nodded towards the door. “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee,” he said with a soft laugh as he got to his feet and started around the desk.

Inspector Steve Keller pushed away from the cabinet and started to follow. As Mike headed towards the coffee station, he took the few steps to his desk to pick up his empty cup. “You do realize that everybody’s busy except us,” he said softly in the older man’s ear as he waited for the cup to be filled.

Mike’s blue eyes snapped around the room as he poured, knowing Steve had kept his voice low on purpose but still hoping that nobody had heard the sotto voce comment. “I know,” he said through clenched teeth, smiling benignly like a ventriloquist. He put the pot back on the burner and nodded at his office. 

Swallowing a grin, Steve led the way back into the glass-walled room and dropped into one of the guest chairs. Mike closed the door before retreating to his chair as the younger man slouched, cradling the cup in both hands in his lap as he crossed his legs. 

The older man took a sip of the strong brew before putting the cup down and leaning forward over the desk. “I don’t know about you but I really enjoyed being able to go home before midnight last night for a change, and I wouldn’t mind a couple more nights like that, wouldn’t you?”

Steve grinned cheekily and wagged his head. “Oh yeah…” he chortled, bobbing his eyebrows.

His smile freezing, Mike’s eyes narrowed questioningly but he didn’t say anything. 

After a couple of very long, uncomfortable seconds the younger man began to squirm slightly. “What?”

“So which one was it?”

“Which one was what?”

“Oh, come on!” Mike scoffed, leaning back and picking up the cup again. “So, fess up, which one was it?”

Chuckling and shaking his head in feigned exasperation, he leaned back even further in the chair, the front legs lifting. “Jennifer.”

Mike frowned, pulling his head back slightly. “Jennifer…? Have I met her?”

“Yes,” Steve punctuated the confirmation with a sharp head shake. “She’s the one you call ‘The Body’, remember?”

The older man’s eyebrows shot up and he smiled. “Oh yeah…. She’s the newest one, right?”

Steve cleared his throat and the legs of the chair sank a little closer to the floor. “Well, ah, relatively new…yeah…”

With a Cheshire Cat smile, Mike brought the cup close to his mouth. “So, ah, you getting serious…?” he asked from behind the cup before taking a sip.

“Serious?” The front legs of the chair hit the floor with a thud as Steve leaned forward. “Mike, come on, we’re just… friends…”

His eyebrows elevated, Mike nodded exaggeratedly as he lowered the cup to the desk. “Sure, of course, just friends… of course…” He pretended to shrug in acceptance, not even trying to hide the smirk.

“Yeah,” Steve tried to keep the whine out of his voice. He put the cup on the desk and started to get to his feet, feeling his partner’s amused eyes watching his every move. “So, ah, what do you want to do today, seeing as we’re the only team without an active case at the moment?” His desperate attempt to change the subject had the desired effect; Mike glanced guiltily through the closed glass door towards the bustling bullpen.

“Ah, you got some paperwork to finish up, right? And you can put the murder book together on the Bronson case and get that out of the way.” He looked down at his desk, moving the cup out of the way and opening the top drawer to remove a couple of manila file folders. It took a couple of seconds to realize his partner hadn’t moved and he looked up to see a pair of surprised green eyes looking down at him. “What?”

“So if I’m gonna finish the paperwork and put the murder book together, what are you gonna do?” Though there was a peeved frown on the young face, there was also a lightness in the tone and they both masked smiles as Mike pretended to glare back; it was game they played a lot.

With studied deliberateness and without looking down, Mike flipped open the cover of the topmost file folder. “I have annual performance reviews to start working on…” He let that little nugget sink in for a couple of seconds before adding softly, “Anything else…?”

Pursing his lips, Steve shook his head slightly. “Nope.” He picked up his cup and turned to the door; Mike’s gentle chuckle followed him all the way to his desk.

# # # # #

He took the form out of the typewriter and set it on the pile that was starting to build atop the black three-ring binder. Reaching for a blank form, he glanced over his shoulder toward the inner office; Mike, his black reading glasses on, was hunched over his desk.

Steve stretched, trying to work a kink out of his neck, and reached for his coffee cup. It was empty. He got to his feet and took a step towards the coffee station when the phone on his desk rang. He leaned back over the desk and snagged the receiver. “Homicide, Keller.” He listened for a couple of seconds before putting the cup back on the desk and picking up his pen.

Mike had glanced up when he heard the phone and watched as his partner listened intently, scribbling furiously. He was on his feet and heading to the coat rack when Steve hung up and spun in his direction. 

“A body in an alley off Eddy. The coroner’s already on the way,” Steve explained as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and started to follow his partner towards the Homicide office door. 

“So much for dreams of an early night,” Mike muttered as he did up his collar button, “for both of us…” He chuckled with a smirk as he reached for the doorknob, glancing back at the frowning young man behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

# # # # #

They exchanged nods with the patrolman guarding the entrance to the alley and approached the small group of uniformed officers standing in a semicircle near a large dumpster. A sergeant turned as the detectives approached. 

Mike smiled grimly. “What have you got for us, Phil?” The lieutenant’s eyes quickly scanned the scene before coming to rest on the familiar sight of the coroner bending over their victim.

“How ya doin’, Mike?” the sergeant grunted in greeting, not expecting a reply and not getting one. He gestured towards the body with his chin. “No wallet, no I.D. From the… smell of things, it looks like he’s one of our… street people.” He almost spit the words out.

Mike’s eyes snapped from the victim to the sergeant but, although he could feel Steve’s angry glare, he let the moment pass and took a step closer to the coroner. “What do you think, Bernie?”

The medical examiner looked up and smiled perfunctorily. “Mike,” he nodded. “Well, I won’t know more till I get him on the slab but first blush? I’d say he was stabbed to death but he’s also been beaten up too so…” He shrugged.

Mike nodded, pursing his lips. He looked around the immediate area. “There’s not much blood here if he was stabbed to death, is there?” he asked almost rhetorically, pointing at the ground around the victim,

Bernie followed the detectives gesture, shaking his head softly. “No, I wouldn’t think so. It could be all under him but…” He shrugged. “The lab boys are on their way.” He looked up at the detectives and smiled apologetically. “We’re having a busy morning…. Anyway, I’ll get them to photograph everything and take samples of everything, but…” He shrugged again.

“There’s no sign of a struggle here at all,” Steve nodded, his trained eyes scanning the alley once more. “It doesn’t look like he was killed here. Maybe dumped…?”

Mike bobbled his head. Over his shoulder, he could hear a burst of raucous laughter that was quickly squelched and he turned smartly on his heel to face the small group of uniformed officers. His angry scowl was swiftly replaced by a cold smile. “Steve and I have got this, Phil. You can leave now.” It sounded like a friendly suggestion but everyone knew it wasn’t.

The sergeant’s grin slowly faded and his eyes narrowed. “If you’re sure, Lieutenant -” he began pedantically.

“I’m sure,” Mike cut him off, the slight smile lingering as he deliberately stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, staring at the sergeant expectantly.

There was a long silent beat as the two veteran cops glared at each other then the sergeant took a step back, glancing at his colleagues. “Come on, fellas, let’s get back to real police work,” he growled then turned slowly, with insolence, and started back up the alley to the street.

Mike didn’t move until they had disappeared from sight. Steve took a step closer to his partner and leaned in. “What’s his problem?”

“Some people become more compassionate in this job… some don’t.” Mike sighed heavily and shook his head, then turned to face the coroner, who had stood and was making notes on his clipboard. He pulled his hands from his pockets and glanced at his watch. “How long do you think it’ll take for the lab boys to get here?”

Bernie shrugged. “Sorry…”

Mike made a clicking sound with his tongue against his teeth and chuckled dryly as he looked at his partner. “Looks like we’re gonna have a long day after all.”

Steve smiled. “Looks like it,” he laughed as his eyes slid around the alley once more.

Bernie glanced up from the clipboard. “You know, I might be wrong, Mike, and like I said I won’t know more until I get this guy back to the morgue, but I’m beginning to think he might have been killed the same way that fella was murdered over off Broadway a few weeks ago.”

Frowning, Mike glanced at Steve, who shrugged. “What ‘fella’?” he asked the coroner.

Bernie looked from one partner to the other. “You’re asking me? I have no idea; I just autopsied him. It was Bill Tanner’s case. Ask him.”

Mike looked at Steve again. “Well don’t just stand there. Get on the horn. Tell Bill we need to talk to him.”

With a good-natured scowl, Steve headed back up the alley towards their car. Mike stared at the ground for several seconds before looking up to find Bernie looking at him with a soft smile. “What? We’ve been busy…”

The coroner’s eyes returned to the clipboard. “Did I say anything…?” he mumbled under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

It was almost an hour before the crime lab van pulled to a stop at the end of the alley. The two Homicide detectives had spent their time studying the scene and their victim as best they could. His job done, Bernie had left them in the capable hands of a subordinate who would oversee the removal of the body when everything had been photographed, bagged and tagged. It was a slow but very necessary procedure.

Mike was standing over the body again, his hands in his pockets, when his partner sidled up to him. “There’s nothing in this alley that tells me he was killed here,” Steve said with a frustrated sigh. “It’s looking more and more like a dump.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Mike mumbled almost under his breath, continuing to stare at the body, swaying slightly as different scenarios tumbled over themselves in his mind. “Well, our community liaison officer, Sergeant Phil…” he snorted derisively and Steve chuckled, “was right about one thing.” He gestured at their victim with his chin. “He definitely looks like a vagrant, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, he does,” Steve confirmed softly as he glanced up at the approaching forensic technicians and took a step back. Catching the move peripherally, Mike turned, smiling and nodding as the department photographer moved past them and began to record the scene. His hands still in his pockets, Mike led the way through the alley back to the LTD, stopping to look up and down Eddy, his eyes settling on a small diner across the street. “I could use a cup of coffee. You?”

Steve smiled. “I wouldn’t turn one down.”

“Good,” Mike said, taking his right hand out of his pocket and holding out a dollar bill. “I’ll spring for it if you go get it.”

With a smirk and a chuckle, shaking his head, Steve took the greenback and started across the street. With a smile of his own, Mike put his hand back in his pocket and turned to lean against the front fender of the unmarked car.

It was going to be a long day.

# # # # #

The sun was starting to set when they finally wound their way back to the Hall. Once the body had been removed, they had studied the scene once more. There were no pools of blood on broken and pebbled asphalt where they body had lain for an as yet indeterminate number of hours, adding to the speculation that the murder had occurred elsewhere.

Bernie had warned them that the coroner’s office was backed up with bodies needing autopsy, and even though this case was being handled by the most senior Homicide team, they would have to wait like everyone else for the results. He couldn’t promise them any news before late tomorrow at the earliest. After much grumbling, there was eventual acceptance. 

It had been a tumultuous summer in San Francisco. Tensions over the end of the war in Vietnam, the detritus from the Watergate scandal, and a growing discontent in the gay community, as well as an explosion of powerful and deadly drugs, had fuelled a season of rage, and the body count, whether the result of violence, accident or suicide, had overwhelmed the medical examiner’s office. 

Inspector Bill Tanner was waiting for them in Mike’s office when they finally returned to the Hall. He was sitting in the guest chair with his legs crossed, a file folder and cup of coffee on the desk in front of him. Steve stopped as his own desk to check for messages while a weary Mike headed straight for his office, plopping the fedora on the coat rack but keeping his jacket on as he rounded the desk and dropped heavily into the chair.

Tanner smiled in commiseration, recognizing the look of frustration on the older’s man face. “Don’t tell me,” he began with a soft chuckle, “your victim is a homeless guy, no I.D., beaten and stabbed, probably dumped… and nothing else, right?”

“Wait, when were you in the alley today?” Steve asked facetiously as he stepped into the office, crossing around the desk to stand next to his partner. Mike was staring at the young black inspector with a frown that was part peevishness, part amusement.

Tanner laughed and leaned forward, opening the file. “Sounds like you guys are in the same boat as Lee and me.” He picked up the file, turned it around, and tossed it on the desk in front of his lieutenant. “We put it on the back burner over two weeks ago because we couldn’t get an I.D. on our victim.” 

Mike’s eyes, which had drifted down to the file, snapped back up.

Tanner smiled apologetically and shrugged slightly. “I told you about it, Mike, remember? It was when we had that bunch of O.D.’s from that bad batch of heroin and we were helping Narco try to track down the source…?”

The older man’s frown deepened then he nodded slightly. “Yeah… yeah, I remember. Was that only two weeks ago?” he asked rhetorically then shook his head in frustration and ran his hands over his face. “God, it’s been an awful summer, hasn’t it? I’ll be glad when it’s over.” He felt his partner’s hand on his back and a gentle pat.

“So what did you manage to uncover?” Steve asked, getting them back on topic. He knew the past few months had been harder on his partner than normal. Jeannie had been spending her summer vacation in an apprenticeship program with a St. Louis architectural firm, and other than two weeks at the end of June before her secondment, Mike had had to be content with regular phone calls instead of the comforting presence of his only child, something he had looked forward to every summer since she had left for college three years before.

Tanner looked up at Steve and cocked his head. “Well, like I said, not much. There was no I.D. on him…. Hell, there was nothing. No papers at all except a couple of bucks and some change, so we ruled out robbery…” He shrugged. Steve had flipped through the file and he and Mike were looking at the crime scene photos. “He’d obviously been living on the street as you can see… and for a long time. They couldn’t even nail down an age for him. Bernie said he was somewhere between twenty-five and sixty. He had cirrhosis of the liver and he was a heroin addict.” Tanner inhaled deeply. “We checked with Missing Persons but that was a bust, like we figured, but… you know, we had to ask. We even tried talking to street people in the ‘Loin and around Market for a couple of days but they were all tight-lipped… nobody said they knew him or recognized him.”

“Cause of death?” Mike asked, not lifting his eyes from the photos.

“He was beaten and stabbed. But Bernie said he died from the beating and the stab wounds were post-mortem.” When both partners looked at him with frowns, he shrugged again, cocking his head with a confirming nod. 

Steve looked at Mike. “Sounds like our guy.” When the older man nodded in agreement, his attention returned to Tanner. “From the looks of our guy, it’s the same thing. That’s a hell of a lot of rage.”

“Or it’s two killers,” Mike said quietly and both inspectors looked at him. He raised his head slowly, meeting Tanner’s curious frown.

“What are you thinking?” the black detective asked softly.

His face unreadable, Mike looked down and shrugged slightly. “I don’t know, it just…” He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “A beating spells power, overwhelming physical superiority.” His eyes met Tanner’s again. “Did your victim have any defensive wounds on his hands, or any sign that he fought back?”

Tanner shook his head quickly. “No, nothing.”

“At first glance, neither does ours. How big is your guy?”

“Five-eleven, two-ten.”

“So he had a little size on him. And he was still beaten to death?”

Tanner nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah.”

Mike glanced up at his partner. Steve looked at Tanner. “Our guy’s about the same, maybe a little lighter but still…. You could barely see his features, he was beaten so badly. And there was too little blood at the scene so he was either dumped there -“

“Or he was dead before he was stabbed,” Mike finished the thought and both younger men looked at him again. “Like Bill’s victim.”

There was a quiet beat before Steve asked, “But why stab someone after you’ve beaten them to death?”

“That’s why I think there are two killers,” Mike offered softly.

“What, like a George and Lenny?” Steve postulated. “One bigger and more powerful…?”

Mike looked up with a facial shrug and a wry smile. “Or a Bonnie and Clyde.”

The two inspectors looked at each other. “You mean a man and a woman?” Tanner asked tentatively, frowning.

Mike shrugged again, this time with a soft chuckle. “I’m just throwing it out there…”

“Okay,” Steve said hesitantly, “but why?”

“I have no idea,” the older man shot back. “Like I said, I’m just throwing it out there.”

The younger man studied him for a beat. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?”

Mike chuckled softly. “Well, what the hell else did I have to do?”

Steve laughed. “True. But, you know, I was there too and you never mentioned anything to me…” 

“I was working it out in my head.”

Steve stared at him without expression for a long second. “Unh-hunh.” He looked at Tanner. “What do you think?”

Trying to suppress an amused smile, Tanner glanced at the expectant lieutenant before focusing on the younger partner. “Ah, I see no reason to discard the possibility. I have to admit, it’s not something we focused on - the possibility of two killers… and, you know, that they could be… co-ed…” He shrugged almost helplessly.

Mike snorted. “Co-ed…. I like that. It’s better than ‘Bonnie and Clyde’.” The last words were almost spit out and Steve’s eyes shot towards Tanner. He knew what was coming next and he tried to signal his colleague. Mike growled. “I hate it when they do that.”

“Do what?” Tanner asked innocently, not noticing Steve’s frenzied head shake warning him off. Mike’s partner rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Glorify the bad guys. Everybody knows their names - Bonnie and Clyde, John Dillinger, Pretty Boy Floyd, Machine Gun Kelly, Billy the Kid…. They were all cold-blooded killers, but everybody knows their names and nobody knows the names of the people that finally brought them to justice, do they?”

Tanner, who had been staring at his boss, glanced up at Steve, who glared back at him through wide, ‘I tried to warn you’ eyes. He had obviously been down this road many times before.

Nodding, Tanner met Mike’s eyes again. “You know, you’re right. I never thought about it that way.”

“Well, you know, there’s that Sam Peckinpah movie ‘Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid’ that came out last year…” Steve ventured carefully.

Mike looked up at him, his eyes dark and hooded. “And is Pat Garrett the good guy?”

The younger man reached up and idly scratched the back of his head, grimacing. “Ah, no, ah, he’s the bad guy…”

Mike looked back at Tanner and threw his hands up. “You see, what did I tell you?”

Nodding with a closed mouth smile, Tanner pointed at the file. “So, ah, what do you want to do with, ah…?”  
Mike looked down. “Leave it with us. It does sound like they’re related, and as ours is the newer one and you don’t have any leads, we’ll take it over.”

Tanner grinned. “Great,” he almost exclaimed, getting to his feet. “So, ah, you need me any more tonight?” He tried not to sound overly enthusiastic.

Mike gestured vaguely towards the door. “No, get outa here. Thanks, Bill.”

“You’re welcome,” the young inspector called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the bullpen.

Mike looked up at his frowning partner. “What?”

“You do realize we now have two cases with unknown victims and no clues and no motive and no -”

“I know, I know,” Mike waved him quiet. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.” His eyes narrowed. “You got something better to do?”


	3. Chapter 3

They had called it a night shortly after Tanner had left. Because they weren’t expecting to hear even any preliminary results from the autopsy on their latest ‘John Doe’ until late the next afternoon, there was nothing much they could do until then, so any study of the previous case could wait until the light of day.

Mike was already at his desk when Steve strolled in shortly after 7. He had taken the time to stop at one of their favourite bakeries and pick his partner up a cheese Danish and a cup of Columbian Dark Roast, helping himself to a latte and a croissant. Not even stopping at his own desk, he went straight into the inner office and set the small paper bag on the file Mike was reading.

The older man’s head snapped up, meeting the beatific smile with a scowl. Steve gestured at the bag with his chin and raised eyebrows. The blue eyes behind the dark-rimmed glasses narrowed as they shifted focus and he slowly opened the bag, starting to smile as the delicious smells reached his nose before he could see what awaited him.

Now grinning, he reached into the bag and took the cardboard cup of coffee out as a chuckling Steve sank into the guest chair, setting his own bag on the desk and opening it. As he took removed the cup of latte and reached back in for the croissant, he nodded towards the file. “So what did you find, if anything?”

Taking a bite out of the Danish, and acknowledging his partner’s largesse with a nod and a smile, Mike chewed and swallowed before he answered with a shrug and slight shake of his head. “Nothing that Bill didn’t tell us about last night. We do have a fairly decent picture of the guy, so that might help, although Bill said he and Lee already canvassed the area. Fingerprints were a bust, like we assumed, but I want to run our guys prints as well when we get them, of course.” He took another bite, then picked up the file with his other hand and tossed it across the desk closer towards his partner as he sat back to enjoy his breakfast. 

Steve put the cup of latte down as he spun the file around and his eyes started to scan the top report.

“I want to get a picture of our guy after Bernie’s boys clean him up - hopefully later today - and then tonight you and I are going to beat the bushes where the… homeless spend the night and see if we can get anyone to admit they know either of them.”

Steve looked up from the file and frowned. “Tonight?”

“Yes, tonight. You have a problem with that?” Mike’s expression was expectant with a touch of whimsy.

“Ah… ah, no… no, not really…”

“Not really? What, you have a hot date with, ah, what’s, ah - ah, Jennifer again? I thought you weren’t serious?”

Trying not to smile, Steve straightened up in the chair, clearing his throat and patting his tie down. “We’re not, it’s just…”

Mike waited for a beat, still smiling. “It’s just what?” When the younger man sighed pointedly, he chuckled and reached for his cup of coffee. “Okay, I tell you what. Why don’t you take… Jennifer out to dinner tonight, and then meet me back here at 8 and we can head out then. Does that work for you?”

Steve stared at him expressionlessly for a bit then smiled. “Yes. Yes, that would work perfectly, thank you.”

Chuckling once more, Mike leaned forward the picked up the last of his Danish. “I want to go through our files and contact all the other departments within a 100 mile radius and see if they have any unidentified, murdered vagrants on their books. Just in case these aren’t the only two, right?” He popped the last bite of Danish into his mouth.

Chewing on his croissant, Steve nodded.

“Oh, and remind me to call down to the morgue and see if they still have John Doe Number One’s body on ice. I don’t think they’d of sent him to Potter’s Field yet, do you? It seems too soon for that, doesn’t it? If they have him, I want to have a look at him.”

Steve picked up his cup and croissant and started out of the office. “I’ll do that right now.”

“I didn’t mean this minute -“

“Hey, if you’re gonna let me off for dinner, it’s the least I can do,” he chuckled as he crossed to his desk.

# # # # #

It turned out to be a more productive day than they had anticipated. The morgue had returned Steve’s call with the confirmation that they did indeed have the body of their John Doe Number One in the freezer, and mid-afternoon they took a trip across town to the unclaimed body cold storage to have a look at the what they hoped was the first victim in their latest case.

Mike had sent out inquiries to the dozens of police departments in the nine counties in the Bay Area. He knew it would take hours if not days to start getting replies but as they didn’t have the pressure of answering to families, time was not of the essence. Except, of course, if it turned out they did have a serial killer or killers on their hands who needed to be stopped before they struck again.

The young, painfully thin, greasy-haired morgue attendant pushed the metal gurney through the double doors into the small room where the detectives were waiting. Pulling it to a stop in the middle of the room, he lifted the piece of paper that was taped to the top of the heavy plastic wrapped around the corpse and announced, “Joe Doe 7-4-0-7-2-3-1-2.” He looked up. “This the guy you’re looking for?”

Steve glanced at his notebook and nodded. “Yep,” he confirmed, flipping the notebook shut and putting it in his pocket.

The attendant pulled a pair of scissors out of his back pocket and started to cut through the packing tape that secured the plastic wrap. “You just wanna see his face or the whole magilla?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Ah, we’d like to see the entire body, please,” Mike answered without inflection and Steve looked at him, sensing a rising tension under the calm reply.

“You got it,” the attendant grunted, slicing through the tape and starting to pull the layers of heavy plastic free from around the frozen body. It was done with a smooth and impressive efficiency. The body revealed, he took a step back, wrinkling his nose. “Jeez, even frozen this one is still ripe,” he groused, shaking his head rapidly as if to clear his sinuses. As the detectives moved closer to the gurney, he gestured towards the body with his chin. “So what’s with this bum that you’re so interested in him all of a sudden?”

Mike froze then very slowly turned his head towards the attendant. Steve held his breath. “This… bum… was someone’s son… maybe someone’s brother. Maybe he was a husband or a father… He came into the world just like you or me… like all of us… with a life full of promise…”

The attendant had stopped moving, his dark eyes fixed on the lieutenant’s face, unblinking. Mike’s voice remained soft and calm.

“I don’t know how he got here… do you? I don’t know how he ended up living on the street, but I have a pretty good idea that it wasn’t his choice. And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t his choice to be murdered on the street either, do you?”

Chastened, the attendant looked down, holding his tongue.

“Do you?” Mike repeated, no anger in his voice.

There was a slight shake of the downturned head.

Mike faced the gurney again. “We’ll let you know when we’re finished,” he said curtly. Effectively dismissed, the attendant disappeared through the double doors without a backwards look. Mike sighed heavily.

Steve looked at him sideways and smiled softly.

The corpse had obviously been cleaned up as best as possible and had been washed as part of the autopsy procedure, but the attendant was right; the stench of human body odour still permeated the air around the gurney. The Y-incision on the torso stood out starkly against the very pale flesh and Mike took note of the precise and extremely neat stitches; no matter who the victim happened to be, Bernie always made sure every one was treated with the same care.

The body was fleshy, surprisingly so, confirming Tanner’s description of John Doe’s height and weight. The matted long red hair stood out starkly around the grizzled face mostly obscured by the full dark beard and moustache. There was a large, unstitched gash on the upper left forehead, and they knew from reading the autopsy report there was a similar gash on the back of the head as well, which had cracked the skull. A potentially fatal blow, the coroner had noted, possibly done with a metal pipe or bat.

Their eyes drifted down to the man’s torso. There were what remained of bruises on the man’s ribs and abdomen, as if from a kick or two, and bruises on the arms, both upper and lower. It had obviously been a savage beating. But there were no cuts or bruises on the man’s hands.

Steve had begun to silently count the stab wounds that he could see, the ones that started high up on the chest near the neck and continued down to the groin; he stopped at fourteen. “A lot of rage,” he murmured softly under his breath.

“Yeah,” Mike breathed beside him.

They stood over the body for several long seconds, confirming for themselves what they had both read in the autopsy report. Then Mike took a step back. “I’ve seen enough. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He turned slowly, his hands in his pants pockets, and started for the double doors. 

Steve quick stepped to get to the door first and opened it for the older man. The attendant was leaning against the wall at the far end of the hall, smoking. As they turned down the corridor towards the front entrance, Mike raised his voice. “We’re done,” he said flatly without a glance in the attendant’s direction.

His brow furrowed, the attendant dropped what was left of his cigarette and ground the butt into the tile floor with the heel of his Half Wellington.

# # # # #

“Look, ah, you take off for dinner when we get back to the Hall. I’ll go give Bernie a visit and see if has anything for us yet.”

“You sure?” Steve asked as he pulled the LTD away from the curb. “It’s only just after 4.”

“I want you back at 8, remember? And it could be a long night.”

“What are you going to do for dinner?”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll grab something. But you just make sure to tell The Bod-…. I mean, Jennifer,” the older man chuckled, “that you might not be seeing her for the next several nights. It all depends of what we come up with tonight, if anything.”

Steve glanced across the front seat, frowning. “You don’t sound very optimistic.”

“I’m not. At least not for tonight, but we gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a beat before shooting a cheeky grin in his partner’s direction again. “So, ah, you’ve had some experience in that milieu…. What would you suggest I wear tonight?”


	4. Chapter 4

Mike glanced across the front seat again, a whimsical grin lighting his face. Staring through the windshield with unusual intensity, Steve tried to ignore the amused blue eyes boring into the side of his head.

Steve had indeed returned to the Hall at 8, wearing his usual work attire and an enigmatic smile. They had spent the next hour going over what Mike had learned from the preliminary autopsy report, which was nothing they already hadn’t surmised, and was disturbingly similar to the results of the post mortem of their first unidentified victim, and figuring out where they would begin their night’s excursion. Then, armed with photos of their two John Does, they headed down to the garage and out into the darkening and progressively chilly night.

“So, you had a good dinner -?”

“Yes, I had a good dinner,” Steve interrupted, nodding emphatically with feigned irritation as he answered the question for the third time.

“Good, good.” Mike continued to stare at the younger man’s profile. There was a brief pause and then, “You did eat, right?”

Steve tore his eyes off the road and shot a glare in his partner’s direction, struggling not to betray his guilt with a smug grin. “Look, we went to Luigi’s, alright? Do you want to see the bill?”

Mike was staring at him, his shoulders shaking, biting his lips in a futile attempt to suppress his amusement.

Clearing his throat pointedly, Steve’s attention returned to the road. “Where do you want to park?”

The older man frowned. “What?”

Steve nodded through the windshield. “Park. Where do you want me to park?”

Mike refocused. “Oh, ah, doesn’t really matter, I guess. Anywhere you can find. It’s not like we’re going in undercover. I want them to know we’re the ‘fuzz’. And I want us to stick together tonight. Get the lay of the land, so to speak.”

The younger man nodded, starting to scan the street ahead for an open parking space. It didn’t take long to find one. Traffic in the Tenderloin had a tendency to thin out as the sun began to set; it was one of the dicier areas of The City right now and had been for decades. And it was a well-earned reputation. 

The LTD swung to the curb and the engine died. Both doors opened. The August nights were starting to get colder and both men were wearing overcoats; Mike his black topcoat, Steve his beige Aquascutum. Out of habit, Mike checked his inside suit jacket pocket for the morgue photos of their two victims. 

Post Street was almost deserted. They started towards Union Square, a normal gathering spot for The City’s homeless. There were a few unfortunate souls already under blankets in office building doorways and they chose not to disturb them, looking for people still up and about. 

The Square was a little busier and they approached several individuals, brandishing the photos and getting no results, or at least finding no one who would admit to recognizing the victims. They spent over an hour working the area and surrounding streets with no success.

They were headed down O’Farrell in the general direction of their car when they spotted a large group of men gathered at the end of an alley further up the block. As they approached, three of them clocked their appearance and started to drift away with feigned casualness. Steve glanced at his partner, who returned the look with a slight shake of his head; there was no point in causing an unnecessary scene.

Reaching the four men remaining in the alley entrance, Mike took his star and I.D. out of his pants pocket and flipped it open. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said pleasantly with a warm smile. “I’m Lieutenant Stone, this is Inspector Keller,” he introduced them, nodding in Steve’s direction. “We were wondering if you might be able to give us a hand with a murder investigation?” He snapped the I.D. shut and shoved it back in his pocket.

The four men exchanged suddenly nervous glances. “Murder?” one of them echoed softly. “Ain’t none of us murdered nobody.”

Mike’s calming smile got a little wider as he shook his head. “We’re not accusing anybody of anything, don’t worry. The victims were a couple of guys who are living on the streets, like you, and we want to find out who killed them, that’s all. We don’t know who they are and we just want to know if any of you might know them. That’s all… I swear.” He held up both hands, palms out, still smiling.

There were grumbles and exchanged looks once again then one of men nodded.

“Good,” Mike said quickly, reaching into his pocket for the pictures. Steve did the same. They held out both sets of photos, watching the faces carefully for any signs of recognition, whether overt or concealed. But there were none. All four men shook their heads.

“Sorry,” one of them said, “I ain’t never seen ‘em.”

“Me neither,” muttered another one.

Mike nodded. “Okay, fellas, thanks.” As he started to put the photos back in his pocket, one of the men took a step towards him.

“Ah, where’d yah find these guys?”

Steve slipped his own photos in his jacket pocket. “One off Broadway about a month ago, the second one off Eddy two days ago.”

There were more guttural utterances, more furtive and worried looks. “How were they killed?”

Steve glanced at his partner, who nodded. “They were beaten and stabbed.”

“Jeez…”

The detectives watched as the four men digested the news. Mike smiled in commiseration. “Listen, fellas, thanks for trying to help. And, ah, be careful, okay? Look out for each other.”

There were more nods. As the detectives started to turn away, one of the other men took a step forward. “Hey…” They turned back. “Listen, ah, there’s a lot of guys under the Bridge…” He nodded towards the photos in Mike’s pocket. “They might know…”

Mike stared at the long-haired, unkempt man of indeterminate age and smiled slightly, nodding. “Thanks. We’ll check that out.” He reached into his pants pocket and took out a small wad of bills, peeling off four singles and passing them around. “It’s cold tonight, get yourselves a cup of coffee.”

There were mumbled thanks as they took the money and disappeared into the alley. As the detectives made their way back to the car, Steve glanced over at his partner. “If you’re gonna keep doing that, it’s going to be an expensive night.”

Mike smiled enigmatically. “I went to a bank over dinner and got myself a bunch of ones. I’ll consider it money well spent.”

Grinning, Steve slapped him on the shoulder as they approached the car, splitting up as they moved to their respective sides.

# # # # #

They could start to see their breath as they got out of the car on Hamilton and headed towards Rincon Point, pulling their overcoats tighter. Traffic was light and it took no time at all to get across the Embarcadero and head down to the undeveloped land under the Bay Bridge. 

It was like another world down there. The roar of cars and trucks driving across the silver span above their heads echoed around them, the lights of The City and Oakland glinting off the unusually calm waters of the inland Bay. There was a slight breeze, not enough to ripple the water but cold enough to let everyone know it was going to be an unpleasantly chilly night for those without the benefit of a roof over their head.

As Mike led the way down the dirt-covered slope towards the figures huddled around the fires burning in 45-gallon drums, Steve raised his voice. “So, any of this bringing back fond memories?” he chuckled.

Mike stopped momentarily, glancing over his should with a smirk. “Ha ha ha. Just keep your wits about you, buddy boy. There’s a lot more of them than there are of us.”

“I thought you said we had nothing to worry about?”

Continuing down the slope, Mike snorted. “We don’t, if we don’t inadvertently step on any toes.”

“Now he tells me,” Steve mumbled to himself with a soft chuckle.

They confidently advanced toward the first group of men gathered around a rusty drum containing a moderate fire. A couple of them drifted away as the cops approached; there was no mistaking who they were, and Mike was pleased with that. Like he had said earlier, he wanted their presence known. On the outside chance that the killer or killers were amongst the indigent or transient denizens of the seamier side of San Francisco society, the obvious police presence might mean a welcome, if only temporary, secession in the murders.

If had been almost a month between the two killings, as far as they knew, pending the discovery of any other unidentified bodies, and there was no reason to believe that the timetable, if there even was one, would be suddenly accelerated. But they also didn’t want to take that chance.

His face breaking into a smile, Mike stepped into the middle of the group with his badge in his hand. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he began pleasantly, trying to make eye contact with the six men who had remained around the flaming oil drum. “Lieutenant Stone, Inspector Keller.” He gestured at Steve with the badge before flipping it closed and putting it back in his pocket. “Don’t worry, fellas, we’re not here to roust ya, we just wanna talk.”

Several pair of eyes slid almost surreptitiously towards a short, stocky man with a thick grey beard and long grey hair pulled back into a ponytail. He seemed older than the rest but it was hard to tell. “Talk to us about what?” he almost growled.

Continuing to smile genially, Mike took the photos out and held them up, one in each hand. “Well, we want to know if any of you guys, or anybody here,” he looked pointedly around the entire encampment, “knows either of these two men.” After the older man had looked at both photos, Mike showed them to the others, giving them all a good look; Steve watched from over his partner’s shoulder for any reaction. There was none.

The first man shook his head. “They look dead,” he said flatly.

Mike looked back at him. “They are. One was found off Broadway, the other off Eddy. They were beaten and stabbed to death.”

Steve was still staring at the others; there was a general stirring of concern but none of recognition. 

“We want to stop whoever did this from doing it again,” Mike continued then nodded back over his own shoulder. “Do you think anybody else might know who they are?”

The grey-haired man thought for a bit, sucking on his teeth, then shrugged. “Could be. Why don’t you ask them?”

The lieutenant’s smile got a little wider. “I think we will.” He nodded at the assembled group as he took a step back. “Thanks for your cooperation.” As he turned away, Steve fell into step beside him.

“What, you’re not handing out your singles?” he asked sotto voce, a smile in his voice.

“I’ll catch ‘em on the way out. I don’t want to make it look like we offering bribes,” Mike answered softly as he led the way towards another group standing around a flaming barrel.

The younger man bobbled his head and snorted. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Mike had taken his badge out again. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he intoned as they joined the next group, both of them hoping the night wasn’t going to be a complete bust.


	5. Chapter 5

Although they were pleasantly surprised by the reception they received from most of the homeless men they approached, they were disappointed that no-one seemed to recognize, or admitted to being able to recognize, either of their victims. It was beginning to sound suspicious. Realizing that they were not compromising their safety, they split up in order to talk to more people before their presence was no longer appreciated.

Steve was showing the photos to a couple of younger men when a third, looking over his shoulder, suddenly pointed a grimy index finger at the picture of John Doe Number One and mumbled, “Hey, I know that guy.” 

The cop’s head spun towards him. “You do?”

“Yeah…” Soft brown eyes were staring at him from a face about his own age, a face framed by medium-length dark brown hair and a short dark beard and moustache.

“Do you know his name?”

The young man shook his head. “Nah, sorry,” he shrugged. “But I seen him about, oh, I guess it was six weeks ago, I think.”

“Here?”

“Nah, he had his old lady with him…. They were down near the warehouse…” He nodded over his shoulder towards the piers to the south.

“The warehouse?” Steve had put the photos back in his pocket and taken his notebook and pen out, flipping the book open. He began to make notes, pausing briefly to scan the area in a vain attempt to find his partner. “Where’s that?”

The young man hesitated, glancing at the others that had crowded around, suddenly unsure, it seemed, if he should be more forthcoming.

“Look, we’re not interested in anything going on down here,” Steve assured quickly. “Like I told you, there’s someone going around killing homeless men for no apparent reason and the police department wants to put a stop to it.”

When none of the others said anything, the young man looked at the cop again. “Look, ah, in case you didn’t notice, there’s only men here.” He gestured around the dark and foreboding encampment and Steve briefly allowed his gaze to follow.

“Yeah, I did notice that. I was going to ask.”

“Well, there’re a lot of homeless women on the street too, you know… of all ages. Kids too.” The young man took a step closer to the detective and lowered his voice. “And it’s not safe for them, you know what I mean?”

Steve nodded, his pen hovering over the notebook.

“There’s, ah, there’s this abandoned warehouse down on pier 48. It’s been condemned. They keep talkin’ about taking it down but they haven’t yet and until they do…” He shrugged. “The women go there, you know, at night.”

A couple of the others nodded in agreement.

“Just the women?” Steve asked and there was some head shaking.

“No,” one of the others, who was wearing what looked like an old, black, priest’s cassock, piped up. “If they’re with a guy… you know, like a couple? Then the guy can go too. And there are kids there as well.”

“How many altogether?”

The men looked at each other and most of them shrugged. “I dunno,” the youngest one said, “depends on the weather. A night like tonight, there’d be a lot. Maybe fifty… seven-five…”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t go right now,” the ‘priest’ interjected.

“Why not?”

“They close it down.”

“What do you mean they close it down? Who closes it down?”

“They do,” a third party joined the conversation. He looked like an army vet in fatigues with a buzz cut that was growing out. “A couple of the…” he looked at the others and shrugged, “‘husbands’, I guess you could call them, stake themselves out at the entrances and don’t let anybody but women ’n’ couples ’n’ kids in, ya know…? For safety’s sake, I guess.”

Steve weighed this new information. It seemed perfectly logical as well as smart. “So when would you suggest we visit?” He made eye contact with all of them, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“They bar the doors about an hour after sundown,” the ‘priest’ told him. “Anytime before then you can probably get in if you show them your badges.”

“Thanks.” Steve nodded his appreciation for the cooperation then turned his attention back to the man who had recognized John Doe Number One. “So you say he had an ‘old lady’?” The young man nodded. “Do you remember anything about her?”

The brown eyes drifted away slightly and unfocused, then he shook his head almost apologetically. “Not really…. I know she was about his age…”

“What age would that be?” Steve asked quickly, knowing the coroner’s office had estimated JD#1’s age somewhere between thirty and sixty.

The other man shrugged again. “Forty…? Maybe a little younger.” He paused for a brief moment. “She had red hair, I remember that. Like he did. I guess maybe that’s why I remembered them. They looked more like brother and sister than a couple, you know what I mean?”

Steve nodded, mulling this over. He made another note in his book. “Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”

Seeming to think about it for a long second, the bearded man shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. Like I said, I just remember the hair…”

“Okay, thanks,” Steve sighed, snapping the notebook shut. No point in asking the man to sit down with a sketch artist; he’d probably come up with a cross between Little Orphan Annie and Lucille Ball. He started to walk away to look for Mike, then spun back. “Hey, in case I need to talk to you again, what’s your name?”

“Daryl Tyler.”

“Thanks, Daryl.” He gestured his gratitude by snapping his pointed index finger at the man, then almost winced; it was a gesture he was picking up from Mike. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

With a chuckle, he started carefully across the uneven ground, his eyes quickly shifting back and forth from the general direction of the obstacles beneath his feet to the ever darkening encampment. A couple of the fires in the old oil drums had been allowed to die out, making the entire area even darker.

The couple of still roaring fires were casting an amber glow on the concrete and steel underside of the Bay Bridge above their heads, which had grown considerably quieter as the night progressed. The entire area exuded an eerie yet mesmerizing atmosphere.

He couldn’t find his partner. Mike’s black overcoat wasn’t helping; it made him blend in with the dark surroundings and pretty well everybody else, but he thought for sure he would be able to spot the fedora. Trouble was, he soon discovered, about a half dozen other guys were wearing hats of a similar style. 

He was beginning to get a little worried when the all too familiar laugh reached his ears and he spun to his right to see his partner standing at one of the furiously burning oil drums with the group of men they had talked to on their arrival.

They were all still chuckling when he approached, surprised to see three of them holding long sticks impaled with hot dogs over the fire. As if sensing his arrival, Mike turned as he reached them. 

“There you are!” the older man exclaimed with a laugh and a grin. “I was wondering where you ended up. Did you have any luck?”

Steve was staring at the barrel, watching one of the men lift a bubbling hot dog out of the flames. “It’s ready,” he announced to no one in particular.

“Great,” Mike cackled, taking a step closer and Steve noticed he had a hotdog bun wrapped in a napkin in his right hand. The still smouldering hotdog was placed onto the bun and when Mike gripped it tightly, the stick was pulled free.

“Mustard?” The old man in the ponytail proffered a small bottle of French’s mustard, a small white plastic spoon sticking out of the open top.

“Yes, please,” Mike chuckled, scooping a large dollop out of the jar and plopping it on his ‘dog. Finished, he turned to his partner with a wide smile.

“You’re not going to eat that, are you?” Steve asked woodenly, frowning.

“Why not?”

“Are you serious?”

“What? Nobody’s touched it, and the stick has been used before so it’s, you know, relatively clean. I’m not worried. Besides, where’s your sense of adventure?” With an even wider grin, he bit the end off the hotdog then looked at the others and raised his eyebrows. “This is delicious. Thanks!”

“If you get sick, don’t come whining to me,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Mike whispered back between chews. He looked at the men watching them and nodded. “Thanks a lot, fellas.” Hotdog in hand, he began to lead his partner up the hill and back to their car. “Well, I busted out. What did you manage to uncover?” He took another bite of the hotdog.

Steve glanced over his shoulder back toward the oil drum-cum-campfire. “How did they get all that stuff, anyway? Did you pay for it?”

“What, me?” Mike shook his head vigorously. “No no no, they used the five-finger discount.”

“Are you serious? And you didn’t say anything?” Steve didn’t know whether to laugh or be outraged.

“They did that long before we got here. And besides, we’re Homicide, remember?” He chuckled. “I did give them the rest of my wad though; it was the least I could do.” He snorted in surprise. “I guess that makes this the most expensive hotdog I’ve ever had.” He took another bite then continued to chew as they climbed the hill back up to the street, finishing the ‘dog on the way. He used the napkin to wipe his mouth then crumpled it and put it in his pocket before turning to the young man who had fallen into step beside him. “So, you said you found something. What was it?”

Still shaking his head in disbelief at his partner’s ‘spirit of adventure’, Steve smiled. “I did find one guy who saw our Number One a few weeks ago. He’s pretty sure it was him anyway. And our guy wasn’t alone. He was with a woman.”

“A woman?”

“Unh-hunh. A red-headed woman about the same age. Could be a wife… or a sister maybe…?” He let the inquiry hang and watched as the older man frowned, his stride slowing momentarily. “But he doesn’t remember anything else, at least not enough for a sketch I don’t think. I got his name, just in case.”

“Okay, well, that’s something to consider.”

“And there’s more. Seems there’s another place where the… indigent population hunker down overnight, not just the ‘Loin or here under the Bridge.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

As they made their way back to the car, The City now almost eerily quiet at the late hour, he brought Mike up to speed on the pier 48 warehouse and the nightly lockdown. They arrived at the LTD and made their way to their respective doors. Mike stopped and looked over the roof; Steve, the keys in his hand, opened the door then paused and looked at him.

“Good work,” the older man said distractedly, nodding slightly, the wheels obviously turning. “So I tell you what. Why don’t we get in at noon - I think we deserve to sleep in, don’t you?” The younger man smiled and nodded. “We can see if anything else has turned up then we’ll head over to that warehouse about an hour before sundown and see if we can scrounge up anybody there who can identify our John Does.” He grinned, raising his eyebrows. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a plan, Lieutenant… that sounds like a plan.” Still smiling, Steve slid in behind the wheel and slammed the door.

Chuckling and shaking his head, Mike opened the passenger side door and got in.


	6. Chapter 6

The LTD was cruising south down the Embarcadero and had just driven under the on-and-off ramps to the Bay Bridge. After a decent night’s sleep that had stretched well into morning, the partners had met up at noon in Mike’s office, optimistic in the hope that something concrete had crossed one of their desks that could aid in the investigation. They had no such luck.

So, armed only with the same two photos, they set out for the warehouse. Steve had done a little surreptitious digging with the Departments of Public Works and Building Inspection to find out what he could about the warehouse, without tipping his hand in case the bureaucracy was unaware it had been turned into a squat. 

The warehouse was built to accept the overflow from the nearby Port of San Francisco just one pier to the south but years ago, when shipping traffic began to dwindle, the large three-storey building fell into disuse and then disrepair. It was on land owned by The City but the warehouse itself had an unknown provenance. Four years earlier it had failed inspection and been scheduled for demolition. ‘Condemned - Do Not Enter’ signs had been plastered all over the building but, because of The City’s budget crisis, the razing had been put on a back burner and then forgotten altogether.

And that was when, he surmised, the city’s homeless began to use it as a shelter.

A huge cement-grey building loomed into sight on their left and they exchanged surprised looks; the warehouse was a lot bigger than either of them was expecting. There was a fairly large, mostly empty parking lot in front of it and the LTD slid smoothly into an open space well away from the building. A few people, most obviously down on their luck, were making their way down the grassy slope from the Embarcadero, winding their way to the large front entrance to the once-imposing structure.

The detectives got out of the car, sharing a look before they started across the crumbling asphalt to the open doors. They fell into line behind a young woman carrying a baby on her hip and pulling a boy, who looked about three, along by the hand. Two frowning men - a young, thin white man with long blond hair and a well-kept Van Dyke, the other a large, well-built, middle-aged black man - nodded at her congenially as she marched past them, then stepped in front of the two detectives, blocking their path. Neither said anything.

Smiling amiably, Mike reached into his pants pocket, flipping open his badge without losing eye contact with either man. “Lieutenant Stone, Inspector Keller.” He nodded over his shoulder, knowing Steve was holding out his own badge. 

Two pairs of eyes dropped slowly to the gold stars and I.D.’s. “What do you want?” the older one growled.

Continuing to smile, Mike closed the leather wallet and put it back in his pocket. “Just to talk, that’s all.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and took the photos out, holding them up. “We just want to know if anybody here knows either one of these guys, that’s all.”

Both pairs of eyes stared at the photos. The younger one looked at Mike again. “They dead?”

The lieutenant nodded. “Yes, they are. And we want want to know by who and we want to know why. And we’re hoping maybe somebody here can help us.”

“What do you need?” A deep voice bellowed from somewhere behind the guards and a short, stocky, older man with tufts of grey hair sticking out from under a porkpie hat stepped between them, his bright blue eyes boring into Mike’s.

Shifting his focus to the newcomer, Mike’s smile returned. He stuck out his right hand. “Lieutenant Stone,” he introduced himself again, waiting for the older man to take his proffered hand. Eventually the thick palm and fingers wrapped around his and squeezed tightly. Mike didn’t flinch.

With a tiny, almost impressed smile, the old man nodded. “Bert Redfield,” he said curtly. “But you can call me Uncle Joe.” His bright eyes snapped towards the younger detective as he released Mike’s hand.

“Inspector Keller,” Steve said with a slight smile, nodding as he shook Redfield’s hand before the attention returned to Mike.

“So what is it you want?” There was no emotion in the question, and they both got the impression that if their answer wasn’t worded precisely, access to the warehouse was not going to be granted tonight.

Mike held up both photos again. “These men were murdered on the streets during the past month, and we have no idea who they are or why anybody would want to kill them. They both lived on the streets and we thought… well, maybe somebody here would be able to help us identify them and maybe shed some light on what happened to them and why.”

Redfield stared at both photos impassively then met the lieutenant’s eyes again. “You really care about what happened to them?”

Mike’s smile disappeared. “Yes, we do.”

“And that’s all this little… visit is about?”

“That’s all, I swear.”

The two older man stared at each other silently for a long beat, then Redfield nodded. “Follow me,” he grunted as he turned and started away. 

Mike glanced over his shoulder at his partner, raising his eyebrows and briefly making a face, surprised and pleased that it worked. Steve smiled and followed.

Redfield led them deeper into the warehouse. They looked around, surprised. As big as the building looked on the outside, it seemed even bigger on the inside. The completely open first floor, with a twenty-foot ceiling of wooden planks and rusted steel girders supporting the floor above, was dark and dank, the setting sun throwing some muted light through the large but dirty windows lining the far wall. Against three walls were small separate enclosures, some made of blankets, a few actual camping tents, at least three with cardboard walls. People, most of whom were women, were milling about, some with children in tow. There was a murmur of voices, rising and falling in volume as people watched Redfield leading the two strange men they knew to be cops deeper into the warehouse.

Trying to break the ice, Mike glanced down at the shorter man who had fallen into step beside him. “So, ah, why do they call you Uncle Joe when your name is Bert?”

Redfield looked up with a wry smile. “You ever hearda ‘Hooterville’?”

“From the TV show?” Steve ventured, taking a quick step to get closer, and Redfield glanced back at him, chuckling and nodding.

When Mike frowned, both men snorted in amusement.

“‘Petticoat Junction’,” Steve explained but didn’t elaborate.

Redfield stopped and faced the younger man. “Somebody thought I looked like Uncle Joe and started calling me that and it stuck. Now I guess you can call me the ‘Mayor of Hooterville’,” he chuckled amiably, holding out his arms to encompass the entire building.

Smiling, Mike gestured towards the ceiling. “So that’s what you call this place… Hooterville?”

Redfield shrugged. “Well, we gotta call it somethin’, don’t we?”

With a facial shrug, Mike nodded. “So, ah, Uncle Joe, tell us what goes on here. How does this all work?”

The older man shrugged. “Well, it started out as just a warm place to hunker down for the night, but it seems to have taken on a life of its own in the past year or so, and ‘specially this time of year now that winter’s coming and it’s gettin’ colder.”

As if to punctuate his words, the roar of a small engine filled the cavernous space and sparse strings of lightbulbs, hanging from the girders in the ceiling, sprang to life. 

Redfield raised his voice. “We don’t have electricity here so we have to be creative. We have gas-powered generators on each floor but we only use them for two hours each night as the sun goes down so people can get in and bunk down. We can’t keep ‘em on all night; they belch out too much exhaust and everybody’d asphyxiate so we only keep ‘em on for a coupla hours.”

The detectives nodded.

“We have a lot of candles, but we gotta be careful with them too, ya know. And flashlights, but it’s hard to get batteries. And we don’t allow any cooking. You let one person start then ya have to let ‘em all and we can’t have that. It’s just too dangerous.”

Mike nodded softly, looking around. The place seemed very busy but orderly. “And you have about, what? Fifty, seventy-five?” he asked, even though it seemed like more.

Redfield quickly shook his head. “Well, we don’t keep count but on a night like tonight, we’re talkin’ close to two hundred, I’d bet. But we’ve never had any trouble, my boys make sure of that.”

The partners exchanged a surprised look; it was going to be a task to try to talk to all of them in one go. 

“It sounds like you run a tight ship here,” Mike said softly with an approving nod.

“Well, we have to, Lieutenant -“

Mike smiled and held up his right index finger. “How about you call me Mike and him Steve, if we call you Uncle Joe.”

Redfield paused for a moment then grinned. “You got it, Mike.” Chuckling, he turned and led them deeper into the warehouse. “So listen, ah, I can give you guys the two hours we’re gonna keep the generators on tonight. How do you want to do this?”

Mike looked at his partner. “Well, I think we should split up, don’t you?” The younger man nodded. Mike turned back to Redfield. “So how is this place set up?”

“There are three floors, and we have people on all of ‘em. The younger ones and most of the kids are on the top floors; we let the older couples stay down here so they don’t have to climb all those stairs… and it’s relatively quieter.”

Smiling, Mike looked at Steve again. “Okay, you have those young legs so I think you should start on the top floor, I’ll start down here and we can meet in the middle. How does that sound?”

With a feigned sigh of exasperation, Steve nodded. “If you insist…”

“I do,” Mike chuckled, watching with a smile as his partner took a step away then stopped and turned to Redfield.

“The stairs?”

The ‘Mayor’ pointed to the far corner and both detectives looked towards the large set of metal switch-back steps. As Steve started away, Mike called after him. “Good luck!” The inspector acknowledged the proclamation with a raised fist.

“All right, Uncle Joe, let’s get to work,” Mike laughed and started to follow Redfield towards a row of ‘homes’ against the far wall.

# # # # #

Steve was slightly winded by the time he climbed the two sets of switch-back stairs to the third floor. It truly was a cavernous building and he was starting to have trouble seeing anything. It was getting quite dark outside and the sunlight was getting thinner and thinner. He wished now he had taken the flashlight out of the glove box. The strings of lights powered by the generator were only a slight help.

The roar of the generator filled the large room, and he knew it was going to make conversation difficult. But he had a job to do. Touching the photos in his pocket like a talisman, he opted to start at the far end of the room and work his way back to the stairs.

He could feel eyes on him as he made his way across the peeling linoleum floor, trying not to stumble on something he couldn’t see. Voices, mostly children but the occasional woman, seemed to surround him on all sides though he could barely see their source. There were barricades up in a couple of places and he quickly realized they were to prevent people from falling through holes in the floor. It was becoming more and more obvious why the building had been condemned. 

He reached the far end of the room and looked around. What seemed like washing lines had been somehow attached to the walls and were strung the length of the building on both sides, suspended at various intervals by lines that stretched up to the ceiling. In almost a continuous line, blankets of various colours and materials were hung over the washing lines, creating small individual sleeping areas. He approached the nearest one, looking for something to knock on and, finding nothing, cleared his throat loudly. “Excuse me…” he announced, trying to be heard above the roar of the generator.

After a beat he heard a faint, “Yeah…?”

Taking it as an invitation, he stepped through the opening in the blankets. In the amber glow of several large candles, the young woman they had followed into the building was sitting on an open sleeping bag, the baby in her arms, the toddler lying on a small dirty mattress in the far corner.

He had just smiled a greeting and was reaching into his jacket pocket for the photos when he heard it, what sounded like a freight train approaching. And before he could react, the floor began to heave and buckle, the walls begin to shake. And then suddenly he was falling and everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

He didn’t know how long he was out before he began to hear what he slowly realized was crying; it seemed to be coming from all around him. He was lying on his back against something very hard and unyielding and it felt like he was covered with something heavy but not crushing. The back of his head hurt and when he tried to lift it, everything spun and he saw stars. 

He let his head fall back, wincing when it connected with the hard surface with more force than he had anticipated. He strained to hear something beyond the cries, trying to piece together what had just happened.

He was pretty sure it had been an earthquake, and a powerful one. And, because of that, the building had collapsed. The third floor had pancaked down onto the second, he knew, but he couldn’t tell if the ground floor had been able to withstand the shock. 

Mike was on the ground floor.

He tried to raise his head again, fighting past the dizziness as he reached out in the darkness to try to move whatever was pressing against his chest and legs. It felt like chunks of sticky heavy paper that had been rent apart and he knew it was what was left of the roof, the bitumen-laced felt paper that had been covered with gravel. 

He managed to move enough of the roofing material so he could sit up. Pain shot through his lower back and right hip and he froze, holding his breath, taking stock. He breathed in short strangled bursts until he was sure he was just bruised and not broken; his jacket and raincoat had helped to cushion the hard landing. He began to bend his legs to get them under him when another blinding pain shot through his left calf. He could feel an unwelcome wetness plastering his pantleg against the outside of his leg.

Still unable to see in the dark, he reached forward carefully and touched his leg, wincing and gasping at the pain. Breathing in short, sharp gasps, he sat perfectly still for several seconds, trying to regroup. He shifted slightly and carefully to his right, digging into his pants pocket for the hanky that Mike made him carry, then reached up and loosened his tie, undoing it and pulling it off his collar. 

He gently lifted his pantleg and, squinting, tried to see the gash he knew was there. He carefully touched his leg, trying to find the laceration, hissing when his fingers found the upper end. He carefully felt the length of the cut, relaxing somewhat when it didn’t seem to be as long or as wide as he had envisioned it. He cautiously placed the hanky over the wound then wrapped the tie several times around his calf, securing the makeshift bandage into place, then carefully lowered the pantleg again.

The cries that rent the air around him had only grown louder and more desperate. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his entire body as he tried to find purchase on something so he could attempt to stand. His shaking, groping fingers finally found the end of a slab of concrete and he pulled himself slowly to his feet, taking stock of every pain, every stab of discomfort, hanging on for dear life until he felt stable. His leg ached and his lower back and hip were complaining but he was pretty sure he was in one piece. 

He felt the cool breeze coming in off the Bay and realized the entire roof of the large warehouse was gone and he was literally standing atop what was left of the building now. In the distance he could hear the wails of firetrucks, ambulances and cop cars. The lights of The City and across the Bay in Oakland were mostly still on, it seemed, which was heartening. 

He caught his breath, a cold hand suddenly gripping his heart. The abandoned structure that had become a much-needed refuge was now a place of unimaginable horror. And he knew he was standing on what had suddenly become a ruin filled with what surely would be untold death and catastrophic injury. 

The cries reached his ears again; there were people still alive in the rubble and they needed to be rescued. “Close to two hundred…” The ‘Mayor’s’ words echoed in his mind and a shudder of dread and fear shot through his entire body. He closed his eyes, his face crumbling momentarily as he whispered, “Mike…”

The muffled cry of a nearby child penetrated the almost unimaginable sorrow that had washed over him and he instantly snapped back to the horrific reality of what he had just survived. He ripped off his raincoat and went to work. 

# # # # #

It was the throbbing ache in his left forearm that brought him to consciousness. He gasped in agony, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried to fight the pain, breathing in short, sharp bursts. Gaining some control, he opened his eyes. Everything was black and there was an eerie and frightening silence.

He knew he was face up, lying on his back on the hard concrete warehouse floor. There was pressure on his legs but he could feel them and he tentatively tried to move his feet. He could, and there was no pain, and he allowed himself a split second of relief.

There seemed to be some room above his head and he lifted it slightly, wincing when another stab of pain shot through his skull. He knew that the fedora was still on, surprisingly, and, trying to ignore the pulsing discomfort radiating from his left wrist, he raised his right arm and reached up, feeling, through the thick steel-grey felt of the hat, a large lump on the left side of the top of his head. Releasing a held breath in a quick rush, he brought his right arm down and tried to push himself up on his elbow as far as he could.

The air around him was filled with a fine dust and he coughed. He heard a low moan nearby and froze, listening; he couldn’t tell which direction it had come from. After a couple of silent seconds, he called “Hello…?” as loudly as he could. There was just more silence. Holding his breath and gritting his teeth, he tried to pull his broken left arm closer to his body, a strangled cry of pain escaping through his lips. He squeezed his eyes closed, seeing stars.

He let his head fall back, trying to control his rapid breathing, trying not to inhale any more of the grit that seemed to be everywhere, taking time to regroup and try to figure out what he was going to do. He knew it had been an earthquake; he had been through enough in his lifetime to know how they felt and sounded. This one had happened so fast that no-one had had the chance to do more than take a few steps before the ceiling started to fall.

He had been as far away from the front entrance as was humanly possible, talking to an elderly couple in front of their camping tent, Redfield at his side. They’d heard the roar before the walls began to shake, the floor to undulate, and almost instantly everyone seemed to know what was happening. Instinctively, he had turned towards the only egress he remembered seeing as someone screamed “Earthquake”, and he’d idly clocked a number of frantic people escaping through the large double doors before the ceiling began to fall in. He remembered raising his arms above his head in a vain attempt at self-preservation just before something solid and heavy hit his left arm and glanced off his head; he was spun violently to the floor, his world going black.

Another wave of relief washed over him at the incredible luck that had spared him an almost certain death. But he also knew many others would not have been so fortunate. He closed his eyes. “Steve…” he breathed, the name catching in his throat. He knew his partner had been on the top floor so there was a chance he had survived. He would cling to that sliver of hope as he tried to hold on, knowing he was powerless to extricate himself and praying that help was on its way, help that needed to arrive before an inevitable aftershock brought the broken concrete, twisted steel, and shattered wooden beams above him crashing down once again.

# # # # #

Steve took a couple of unsteady steps forward, trying to get his bearings, trying to figure out where he had been standing and where the young mother and her two children may have ended up. He knew there were going to be a lot of people who needed to be rescued but these three, at the moment, were his first priority.

There were screams and moans coming from all around him, and others yelling. He could hear the crash of concrete hitting the ground and the metal clang of steel connecting with asphalt as uninjured survivors started to dig through the rubble with their bare hands trying to reach those trapped beneath. And just beginning were the wails of shock and grief.

He tried to remember the orientation of the staircase to the building itself; it was in the northeast corner, he remembered, and he had walked to the other end of the building to start his inquiries. That would put them in the northwest corner. He turned away from the flickering lights of Oakland and carefully covered the short distance across the remnants of the collapsed roof to where he believed their small space had been. 

“Can anybody hear me?” he yelled and the child’s cry reached his ears again. His heart skipped a beat and his hands shook as he crawled closer, trying to pinpoint the sound. He began to pick up the thick, bitumen-laced, heavy felt paper of what remained of the warehouse roof, thankful it wasn’t concrete but knowing that the rusted steel beams that had held up the roof could also do a lot of damage.

He was carefully but swiftly picking up the large chunks of roof and tossing them aside when he heard someone scrambling towards him. He glanced up to see a large figure picking his way quickly over the ruins towards him. His attention returning to the task at hand, the other man dropped to his knees beside him. “You okay, man?” the stranger asked.

Steve glanced up, surprised to recognize the middle-aged black man who had been guarding the door. He nodded rapidly. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“You sure? Your head is bleeding.” He nodded at the disheveled man’s forehead.

Steve paused for a second and reached up, his fingers touching a wet patch on the right side of his forehead near his hairline. His index finger touched the open gash and he winced involuntarily. “I’m okay,” he said quickly and started tossing the roofing material again.

The other man nodded then bent down to help. “I’m Neil,” he said matter-of-factly as he picked up a large chunk and threw it over his shoulder.

The cop glanced up. “Steve.”

The child’s cry could be heard again and Neil froze, his eyes snapping to Steve’s face, who ignored the look and kept working. They both started moving faster. 

The wailing got a little louder. It was hard to see in the dark and they worked as fast as they could. 

“Stop, stop,” Steve suddenly ordered and they froze. The child’s cries, which had turned into a frightened whimper, suddenly sounded very close. He leaned forward and picked up another large chunk of roofing and in the dark they could both see a small mattress; Steve recognized it from the one the young woman’s tiny son was lying on just seconds before. The whimpering was coming from beneath it.

They frantically pulled more debris off the mattress then Neil grabbed it with both hands and, heaving, yanked it up and out of the hole they had dug. Suddenly the toddler’s entire body came into view. The child’s eyes widened then his face crumpled and he burst into tears. His heart soaring, ignoring the pain, Steve braced himself, reaching down to lift the small boy into his arms. And, closing his eyes in relief, he hugged the crying child to his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

“Here, Iet me take him,” Neil said softly, reaching for the toddler, who had begun to cry again. “I’ll come right back.” Almost with reluctance, Steve released his hold and the guard turned, disappearing as quickly as he could manage over the debris he had just climbed to reach the top of the collapsed warehouse. The cries of the frightened child, who miraculously otherwise seemed uninjured, started to fade away.

Knowing the boy’s mother and the baby must be somewhere nearby, Steve went back to work. Though the air was chilly and breaths were visible, he found his tweed jacket restraining and tore it off, tossing it away before carefully kneeling over the now empty space where the child had been found. 

The laceration in his leg was screaming and his back and hip were shooting bolts of pain down his right leg. Trying to ignore them, he gripped the edges of the hole and leaned forward until his head was as low as he could manage. “Can anybody hear me?!” he yelled as loudly as he could then froze, listening. 

He heard nothing. Trying to remember how far the mattress had been from where the young mother had been sitting holding the baby, he worked out where he thought she might have ended up. They had to be close, he thought, mere feet away. But the fact that she wasn’t responding and he couldn’t hear the crying of the baby brought terror to his heart.

He started to pull more the roof debris away, tossing it as far as he could towards the edge of the incomprehensibly enormous pile of broken concrete and twisted steel, away from the areas under which he knew people were trapped. He was shaking almost uncontrollably, the adrenaline of fear coursing unchecked through his body as he desperately listened for any signs of life nearby. There were so many women and children he had passed on his way across the top floor just minutes before, women and children who were now trapped under all this rubble.

As his fingers, numb with shock, grabbed at the debris in growing desperation, he tried not to think about Mike, not allowing his mind to go down that dark tunnel, clinging to the remote possibility that his partner had managed to get out before the building had collapsed and was now helping to free the others, just as he was doing.

# # # # #

Trying not to groan, the back of his head against the floor, cushioned somewhat by the brim of the hat, Mike reached into his right pants pocket and removed the clean white hanky. Unable to use his left arm, he set the hanky on his stomach then grabbed a corner, picking it up and shaking it out. He laid it over his nose and mouth, hoping it would prevent him inhaling anymore of the fine concrete dust that kept drifting down.

He was worried. He didn’t know the magnitude of the quake or where the epicentre was located, of course, but if it had been strong enough to bring down the warehouse so quickly, it was strong enough to do damage to other structures in the Bay Area. And that posed a very troubling problem. Because the warehouse was in a mostly uninhabited area of The City, and because its use as a homeless shelter was not particularly widely known, professional help - firefighters and rescue teams with heavy equipment - might be several hours away at the minimum.

He knew there had been casualties, probably very many. And if it took hours for the first real rescue teams to arrive, there would without a doubt be very many more. 

He had no idea if his air would hold out; if there was no air permeating the small space he was trapped in then he was in even more trouble. He tried to slow his breathing down, tried to calm his pounding heart. He closed his eyes. He had always been an optimist; almost always able to see the silver lining in any situation. But this time he could see no silver lining. This time he was genuinely scared.

He stared to shiver, the fear flooding his body with adrenaline he couldn’t use. He was taking a deep, shuddering breath when he heard it again, a low moan. He froze, feeling his heart thudding in his chest, straining to hear something, anything.

Another low pain-filled moan filled the air around him and his pounding heart skipped a beat.

# # # # #

He didn’t know how long he was tossing pieces of the roof aside when he heard scrambling and suddenly Neil was beside him again, dropping to his knees and starting to move the debris. “I brought somebody with me,” he grunted as he tossed a large section of roof away and Steve glanced up quickly to see a stocky, middle-aged woman with wild grey hair staring back at him. She nodded sharply, her weathered features pinched with fear and worry.

“What do ya want me to do?” she asked without preamble.

Steve stared at her for a second then nodded at the pieces of roof they had already tossed away. “Can you throw that stuff over the side so we don’t have to move it again?” he suggested, knowing there was only enough room for him and Neil right now but not wanting to make her feel her presence wasn’t wanted. Besides, the material did need to be removed from the pile completely and until more manpower arrived, it was valuable support. 

They worked in a fevered silence for a few long seconds then, without stopping, Steve asked, “Where you at the door when it hit?”

Not looking up, Neil nodded. “Yeah.”

“Did, ah, did anybody get out?”

The guard nodded again. “Yeah, a bunch. About a coupla dozen… I guess they were closer to the door.” He glanced quickly at the cop. “You, ah, you wonderin’ about your partner?”

Swallowing heavily, still digging through the debris, Steve nodded rapidly.

“No, man,” Neil said softly, “no, I didn’t see him…”

Continuing to nod, continuing to look down, Steve tried to control his trembling hands. They continued at a frantic pace for several minutes more, throwing large chunks of debris as far as they could, their arms beginning to ache, their fingertips beginning to sting. In the distance, they could still hear the wails of the sirens, none of them coming any closer, it seemed. 

Pushing away the thought that they were going to be on their own for the foreseeable future, Steve doubled his efforts, trying not to think about what was going on beneath his feet, the bodies, dead and alive, yet to be pulled from the rubble.

Neil had just grabbed a piece of roofing and pulled it up and out of the way when he froze. Steve followed his stare; even in the dark, with only the reflected glow of the almost full moon in a cloudless sky providing any light, they could see a small swatch of bright pink material. Steve tried to remember what the young woman was wearing; all he could recall was a baggy light brown cardigan and blue jeans when they were behind her at the warehouse entrance. He couldn’t remember if she was wearing the cardigan when he had seen her just before the ‘quake struck.

Energized, they increased the pace, trying to remove as much debris as they could as fast as they could.

# # # # #

The moan faded. Mike thought it had come from his right and he raised himself up on his elbow again, the hanky sliding from his face. “Is somebody there?” he said as loudly as he could and waited for a response. 

After a couple of seconds he heard a faint, pain-filled male voice. “Yeah…” 

As best he could, Mike shifted his upper body closer to the right. Lying back, he reached up and groped carefully in the darkness in an attempt to figure out what was separating them. He could feel irregular concrete blocks and a jagged shard of twisted metal. 

He raised himself up again. “Are you hurt?” he asked, knowing it was a stupid question but not sure what else to say.

There was a short pause before another, “Yeah…”

“How bad?”

“My legs… they’re pinned…”

“Me too,” Mike commiserated. “Can you move them?”

There was a strangled breath then, “No…. I can’t feel them…” There was another ragged breath. “I can’t move…”

“Don’t try, don’t try,” Mike said quickly, not wanting to exacerbate the situation. “Help is coming…” he said quietly, trying to put an optimism he didn’t feel into his voice.

There was a long and frightening pause and then a very quiet, “I’m scared…”

Mike’s heart constricted and he closed his eyes, his throat tightening. “I’m scared too…” he admitted softly. He took a deep breath, lying back again so he could use his good hand to try to clear the wreckage near his shoulder to find a way to get closer to, from what he assumed from the timbre of the voice, the young man trapped behind the ‘wall’ of debris. A small section of the rubble near the floor was lose and he pulled at it. A chunk came free and he put it aside then tried again. “What’s your name, son?” he asked as conversationally as he could, working on the wall.

There was a deep unsteady breath. “Bobby…”

“Hi, Bobby,” he smiled, hoping it would be reflected in his voice, “I’m Mike.” He found another piece of loose concrete and pulled it out, hoping that the rest wouldn’t come crashing down again if he removed the wrong piece. Carefully, he felt around some more, able to slide his hand under the debris as if through a small tunnel. There was something hard blocking the way and he strained, using his fingertips to try to get a grip an it, trying to find purchase.

“How old are you, Bobby?” Mike asked, hoping to start a conversation that could help distract the young man even a little bit. He continued to work on the tunnel, still trying to find anything he could grab onto.

There was a sharp, pain-filled exhale then a soft, “Thirty-one…”

Mike froze, closing his eyes. He swallowed heavily and exhaled, going back to work on the tunnel. “My, ah, my partner’s thirty-one,” he said with a gentle chuckle, trying to keep his voice relaxed as the worry clouded his thoughts again and he felt his hand start to tremble.

“Partner…?” Bobby asked.

Mike’s fingers stopped digging momentarily and he snorted softly. To his trained ear there was a sudden calmness in the young man’s voice that told him Bobby realized what he was trying to do, that he was trying to calm them both down using the only arrows he had in his quiver at the moment: his voice and his words.

Smiling, Mike kept digging. “Yeah, my partner. I’m a cop, Bobby. We were here to ask some questions.”

“Where is he?”

Mike inhaled slowly, trying to control his voice. “Ah, I don’t know…” He felt the despair well up again as his chest tightened and he fought against it, his fingers finally finding purchase on whatever was blocking the small tunnel. He gritted his teeth as he tried to pull it free, his right arm at an awkward angle. “I, ah, I thought only women and children, old people and couples were allowed to stay here?” he asked, wanting to keep the conversation going as he strained to remove the obstacle.

“I’m here with my aunt,” Bobby said softly, his voice cracking. “I don’t know where she is…” There was a muffled sob.

Mike froze again, his mind working furiously. “You and I are still alive Bobby. Your aunt might be too, right, son? Don’t give up hope. I’m not giving up on my partner, so you can’t give up on your aunt, right?”

There was a long pause then a soft, “Yeah…”

“Good.” The small concrete block he had been working on suddenly broke free and he grabbed it quickly, pulling it from the tunnel and tossing it away, then he stuck his arm back into the hole he had dug in the debris. He shifted as far to his right as he could until his shoulder was up against the rubble, stretching his arm out and wiggling his fingers. He touched something soft and heard a sharp gasp.

Then suddenly his hand was grasped and he felt warm fingers close around his own and squeeze. He dropped his head back onto the hard concrete floor, his heart pounding as tears sprung to his eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Steve and Neil were tossing aside chunks of the shattered roofing material as fast as they could in a desperate attempt to get to the person wearing the bright pink outfit. It was hard slogging; they had to be careful not to dislodge any material around the edges of the hole they were enlarging that would just fill it up again, or possibly further injure the person they were trying to save.

It seemed to take forever before they were able to uncover enough of the area to recognize that the colourful material was the back of a woman’s blouse, a woman with long curly dark blond hair. The young woman with the toddler and the baby had long curly dark blond hair, Steve remembered, and he caught his breath. With a worried glance at his companion, who met his eyes with a concerned frown, the young cop leaned as far forward as he could, feeling Neil grab the back of his belt to support and stabilize him. Ignoring the pain in his back and leg that he had heretofore manage to suppress, he slid his shaking right hand along the right side of the woman’s neck, searching for a pulse.

He could feel Neil’s eyes boring into the side of his head as he tried to slow his own pounding heart. His fingers moved slightly to another spot, pausing, then moved again. He closed his eyes and his entire body sagged. Beside him he could hear Neil’s soft, strangled gasp, an almost inaudible “Damn it”, felt the strong hand tighten on his belt then pull him back up out of the hole.

Steve looked at the guard, shaking his head softly. Then he whispered, “The baby… she has a baby. She was holding it when the quake hit…”

Neil’s eyes widened and suddenly he was in motion. He began once more to dig at the debris around the young woman’s body, but this time with a franticness that was almost frightening. Galvanized, Steve scrambled to the other side of the hole and began to do the same.

# # # # # 

The fingers that had wrapped around his own held more strength than he was expecting. Mike squeezed back. “How are you doing, Bobby?”

There was a brief pause then a quiet “Okay…” The shaky voice sounded a little louder coming through the small tunnel; conversation would be easier now and they wouldn’t have to expend as much energy.

Mike shook the young man’s hand gently. “Good… good…” He laid his head back against the cold hard ground and closed his eyes. He knew it was going to take hours for any help to arrive; there had to be so much debris above them. If air was able to permeate where they were trapped, there was a more than good chance they would survive till rescue arrived, providing there were no aftershocks large enough to cause any further damage.

He squeezed the young man’s hand gently again. “Bobby, you said you were here with your aunt,” he began quietly, knowing he was stepping into dark waters and not sure what kind of reaction he would get, but wanting to keep the young man talking, keep him conscious and distract him from his injuries and their situation.

“Yeah…” There was a warmth in that one word that made Mike smile. 

“Why…” he hesitated slightly, “why were you both here… if you don’t mind my asking?”

There was a slight pause. “She, ah… she’s not really my aunt…” 

“She’s not? What do you mean?”

There was a dry, mirthless snort and another strained pause. “It’s, ah, it’s a long story…”

Mike chuckled, shaking the young man’s hand slightly. “I, ah, I think we have the time, if you want to tell it…”

Bobby laughed slightly and caught his breath in pain. The older man squeezed his hand tightly until he could hear a soft exhale.

“Listen, ah, why don’t you go start at the beginning. Where are you from?”

“Merced. You know where that it?”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat. Merced wasn’t too far from Modesto. “Near Yosemite, just south of Modesto, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Are your parents still there?”

“Yeah.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“I don’t have any. I’m an only child…”

The hairs on the back of Mike’s neck started to tingle. “So, ah, so how did you end up here… with your ‘aunt’?” He tried to keep his voice even and conversational. “What’s her name, by the way?”

There was a soft chuckle. “Patty.” There was a lot of love in that one word.

Mike laughed warmly. “So how did you and Patty end up here?”

A long, deep silence filled the small space and Mike knew Bobby was trying to find the right words. “A lot of bad decisions, I guess…” There was a melancholia in the tone that was heartbreaking.

Not wanting the young man to clam up, Mike took a different tack. “What does your father do?”

The split second of silence before the answer told the veteran detective a lot. “He’s in the Air Force, stationed at Castle. He flies B-52’s.”

Mike whistled. “That’s a helluva big plane, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” The tone was flat, toneless. 

“Did, ah, did he fly them during the war?” Mike held his breath waiting for the reply, knowing the answer would speak volumes.

This time the silence lasted longer. When he finally spoke, the word was breathless. “Yeah… and in ‘Nam too…”

Mike closed his eyes, taking his time. “Over Cambodia?”

Another long tense pause. “Yeah…”

Nixon’s decision, kept from the American people when it happened in ’68, to carpet bomb Cambodia had been another turning point in the Vietnam War, stoking the opposition and sparking more and more student riots. It had divided the nation… and it had divided families.

“Were you a resistor?” Mike refrained from using the word ‘dodger’ and all the connotations it brought up. He knew all about Steve’s past, about the tensions between the idealistic young man who had gone east with the Freedom Riders and butted heads with his career Army father over the war, among other things.

“I wanted to be,” came the soft reply. 

Frowning to himself, Mike snorted gently. “What do you mean?”

The silence that followed was so long that the cop began to wonder if the question would ever be answered then came a very quiet, “I loved my father… or I thought I did…. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t do anything. And then my number came up…”

# # # # #

They dug away as fast as they could at the debris around the young woman’s body, trying not to think about what they were doing. Neil lifted a large chunk of concrete, no doubt from a wall that had buckled in, and it exposed the dark blond hair matted with blood on the top of the woman’s head. He stopped moving and stared then looked up at Steve.

The young cop sat back suddenly, shaking, realizing how close he had been standing to her when the earthquake hit and yet how different their fates had been. It was paralyzing. Neil nodded at him with a grim smile then tossed the piece of concrete away and went back to work.

Gathering himself, Steve sat forward and, trying to block everything from his mind, including that the tips of his fingers getting more and more sensitive handling the heavy bitumen-laced paper, returned to the task at hand. 

They had removed enough of the rubble to allow Neil to step carefully into the depression to reach down and get a grip on the woman’s body. Hesitating briefly, unsure where to grab her, mindful that the baby was hopefully somewhere nearby and most probably beneath her, he reached under her right shoulder and, grabbing her upper left arm as well, began to lift her enough so Steve, from his perch higher up, could drag her out of the hole. Time was of the essence right now, and speed was more important than respect for the dead at the moment, as much as it tormented them both.

The young cop, trying not to think, trying not to let the reality of what he was doing affect the job he needed to do, reached down as best he could, grabbed the woman’s left arm and began to pull. With Neil pushing up from below, they managed to wrestle the body over the edge of the hole. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, other hands were reaching out, and both Steve and Neil looked up, startled by the sight of at least half a dozen people who had joined them on the pile of rubble. 

As the woman’s body was pulled free, their attention snapped back to the hole. The tiny baby lay frightening still, eyes closed, protected from the crush of the falling roof by its mother’s body but now lifeless. With a strangled cry, Neil bent swiftly and picked it up, cradling it against his chest and slapping its back. “Breathe, damn it,” he mumbled over and over, “breathe.”

Everyone was staring, every breath was held. No one moved.

# # # # #

“You were drafted?” Mike asked.

“Yeah…. I, ah, I had no way to get out of it. I was eligible… and my father expected it of me…” There was another soft and melancholy sigh. “And I had a low number…”

“So you were sent over?”

“Oh yeah…. I was Hue during the Tet Offensive…” Bobby’s voice fell soft, almost to a whisper, and Mike could hear him take a deep and unsteady breath.

Closing his eyes, Mike squeezed Bobby’s hand tightly, letting him know he understood, that no more words were necessary. He knew all about Hue and the vicious battle that had raged there during the early months of ’68, when the tide of the war turned and Nixon lost the backing of the country’s journalistic icon Walter Cronkite, and therefore almost the entire American population. It wasn’t just families that were being torn apart, it was the nation itself.

Taking a deep breath, Mike opened his mouth to ask another question when suddenly the ground began to shake again and he could hear the precariously balanced debris above his head start to groan and shift.

# # # # #

Every eye was on the big black man with the tiny white baby clutched to his chest, his huge hand patting the small back, trying to reignite the small ember of life they hoped was still burning. They all heard a small cough and Neil froze, the hand in mid-air grabbing the child and pushing the still limp body away from his chest, his dark eyes wide with shock and hope as he stared at the small chubby face. 

The baby coughed again, its limbs starting to move, and it began to cry.

Neil threw his head back and roared; there were cheers all around. Steve dropped his chin to his chest, bringing his hands up to cover his face as he released an unsteady breath. His legs suddenly giving out from another surge of adrenaline, he sank slowly to his knees then sat, his hip, back and leg screaming for the attention they needed but that he wasn’t about to give. There were too many people still trapped, too many people to try to save. Mike…

The grey-haired woman who had been the first to join them stepped forward, holding her arms out. She smiled at Neil. “I’ll take her down,” she offered, the tears of relief in her eyes visible in the moonlight.

Almost reluctantly, but knowing he must, Neil handed his precious little bundle over then looked at Steve, who was still sitting. They shared a brief but warm and relieved smile, then the big black man reached out and took the smaller white man’s hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on,” he said, “I bet there’s more people we can save, right?”

As he got up stiffly, Steve’s smile got a little wider. “Yeah… yeah, I think you’re -“

The rubble under their feet started to shake, and a soft roar surrounded them as people began to scream and all hell broke loose once more.


	10. Chapter 10

The black-and-white, lights and sirens, was racing up the Embarcadero from the south, responding to a request for back-up from units assisting the fire department with blazes sparked by the earthquake. They had just passed the Bryant Street intersection when the car started to list heavily to the right, the driver fighting for control.

“Damnit!” the young patrolman behind the wheel yelled, “we got a flat!” He yanked the wheel to the right and stood on the brake, sliding the large sedan to the curb.

“No, we don’t!” his older partner yelled over the wailing siren. “It’s an aftershock!” The car, though stopped, continued to rock. “You’ve never been driving during a ‘quake, have you?” He laughed mirthlessly. “That’s what happens when you’re in a car - makes you think you have a flat.”

Wide-eyed, the driver glanced across the front seat. He opened his mouth to reply then froze, staring out the windshield towards the water. “Holy shit!! It’s gone!!”

“What’s gone?” The sergeant squinted through the window, seeing nothing but a black void between them and the illuminated Bay Bridge just up ahead.

“The warehouse, Sarge, the warehouse! The one the homeless use…? Where the f#@k it is?” He looked at his partner whose eyes widened slowly.

“Holy shit…” the older man echoed, reaching for the mic as if in a trance, the horrific implications starting to sink in.

# # # # #

Mike had let go of Bobby’s hand and pulled his arm back into the chamber, the sudden movement sending white hot shards of pain shooting up his left arm from his broken wrist. Wincing and gritting his teeth, he put his right hand on the top of the fedora, his elbow over his face in what he knew would be a futile attempt to protect his head if the aftershock brought everything crashing down. And for several terrifying seconds it felt like that was exactly what was going to happen. 

The shaking finally stopped. Relieved that the debris over his head had remained where it was, he could smell and feel the fine concrete dust drifting down once again and groped around in the dark for the fallen hanky. Finally finding it, he raised it with a trembling hand and covered his nose and mouth, trying to control the shaking, mostly from fear he knew, that was wracking his entire body. He tried to move his legs again and still couldn’t, but the pressure hadn’t increased, he was relieved to discover.

He started suddenly, turning his head to the right. “Bobby!” he yelled towards the small opening he had dug. There was no response.

# # # # #

Everyone had been jarred off their feet, spread-eagling over the uneven debris as they tried to ride out the aftershock, silently praying that the huge pile of rubble would stabilize underneath them. It lasted for about fifteen seconds, but it seemed to go on forever.

When the roar finally faded away, there was a momentary shocked silence; Neil was the first one to scramble back to his feet. He took a step towards Steve, who was still sitting with his eyes closed, fighting the pain in his back and hip that was making itself known again, and extended his hand. Sensing the presence, the young cop opened his eyes.

Neil smiled. “Come on, we still got work to do if we want to find that partner of yours.”

Steve caught his breath then a small grateful smile curled the corners of his lips and he nodded, taking the outstretched hand and getting slowly and cautiously to his feet, trying not betray his discomfort. He wasn’t successful.

Neil, not letting go of Steve’s hand, took a step closer. “Are you okay? Do you want me to help you down?” He nodded in the direction of the parking lot, where he knew the survivors were congregating.

The grateful smile got a little wider and the detective shook his head. “I’m fine,” he assured, consciously using Mike’s favourite evasive term, then paused, realizing the LTD was in the lot. He started to look in that direction then froze. Though he didn’t hear a siren, he could see the flashing red and blue lights of what he knew was an SFPD patrol car speeding towards the warehouse. His heart started to pound, this time in relief: someone now knew what was happening here. He nodded in the direction of the lights and Neil followed his gaze.

“Finally,” the guard breathed, looking at the cop with a flicker of hope reflected in his eyes.

“Hey, over here!” someone yelled from nearby, and they turned to see a couple of people kneeling in the rubble several yards away, frantically digging.

As they started in that direction, Neil looked over at the slow-moving young white man struggling to hide his distress, and frowned. “I’m gonna keep an eye on you,” he said pointedly, “and when I think you’re done, you’re outa here. You understand me?”

There was an ultimatum in his tone that was unmistakable and, for a split second, Steve could hear his partner’s voice and it almost made him smile. Instead, he nodded placatingly.

“Good,” Neil growled as they joined the others, forming a human chain to quickly move the roofing material in the hope they could free another trapped soul.

# # # # #

“Bobby!” Mike called again, ignoring he pain in his left wrist as he moved as quickly as he could to shove his right arm back into the tunnel. “Bobby!” He stretched his fingers out as far as he could, reaching around, trying to touch the young man but finding nothing. “God damn it!” he muttered under his breath as he pressed his shoulder as deep into the tunnel opening as he could, straining to feel anything except rubble and floor. “Bobby!”

Suddenly fingers grabbed his own, squeezing gently, and he heard coughing. He froze, listening, wrapping his own fingers around the others, trying to breath silently through his open mouth as he strained to hear the other man.

The fingers tightened slightly again and the coughing slowed. “I’m here, Mike….” There was heavy, pain-filled breathing. “I’m here…”

Mike squeezed the hand gently. “Good… good…” he responded softly, the relief evident in his voice. He shook the hand softly. “Are you okay?”

There was a long, frightening pause, then a soft, “Yeah… yeah, I’m okay…”

Mike knew he wasn’t. “Good…” he said gently, his fingers massaging the young man’s hand soothingly.

“Are you okay?” The question was almost whispered but he could hear genuine concern in the tone.

The older man smiled. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine…. Just a little dustier,” he said with a chuckle and was relieved to hear a soft amused snort in return.

After a couple of silent seconds, each man dealing with their own concerns but still maintaining that much-needed contact, Mike allowed himself to lie back, his head on the floor, staring the ‘ceiling’ he still couldn’t see, and tried to slow his pounding heart.

# # # # #

He was at the end of the human chain, helping to toss the chunks of roof and small blocks of concrete over the side and as far away from what was left of the building as possible. More people joined them until the area was crawling with good samaritans trying to locate the trapped, the injured and the dying beneath their feet. 

He’d kept an eye on the parking lot, his spirits rising somewhat as more and more vehicles started arriving; most were cop cars, he knew, but there had been a couple of fire engines. He’d even seen a large truck hauling a long flatbed carrying a small crane and a front-end loader.

Slowly but surely, it seemed, help was on the way. 

He had begun to stiffen up, frighteningly so, but trying not to let it show. Leaving the actual digging to those more physically capable at the moment, he continued to help remove debris. They had found another two women and three children alive in the rubble, and four more bodies, by the time several firefighters began to climb the mound of rubble to join them. 

The moon had started to set, taking what little light it had shed with it, as the night lengthened, the hunt for survivors and bodies continuing. The headlamps on the firefighters helmets illuminated the gloom as they joined the searchers, expressing concern at the large number of people milling about on the unstable pile and ordering some of them back to ground level, assuring them all that there was plenty of work to do down there now that the heavy equipment had arrived and large chucks of the debris could be moved.

Watching the firefighters take charge of the situation, and more grateful for their appearance that he could express, Steve, who had been sitting down, catching his breath, got slowly to his feet and started towards the smoke eater who had done all the talking. He reached into his right pants pocket and dragged his badge out, flipping it open as he approached. The headlamp blinded him briefly before it dropped down to the badge then snapped back up, a hand coming up to grip his upper arm.

“You look like hell, Inspector,” the deep voice said with a gentle chuckle. The lamp flicked briefly down towards the rubble. “Were you in there?” There was genuine concern in the tone.

Trying to smile, Steve nodded as he put the badge back in his pocket. “Yeah… me and my partner.”

“Is he okay?”

The battered detective shook his head, brows knit in worry. “I don’t know… he was on the ground floor…”

He felt more the saw the firefighter freeze momentarily. “They’re, ah, they’re working on it now, but it’s gonna take time…. We gotta go from the top down…”

“I know.” Steve gestured around himself. “We’ve found some people alive… and, ah, we’ve got some bodies.”

The light danced around the immediate area. “Yeah, ah, I can see that. We’ll make sure everybody gets looked after… and more of our guys are on the way.”

Steve could feel a presence behind him and knew without looking it was Neil.

“We’ve got a pretty good team working up here already,” the guard offered, almost defensively, and they could see a flash of teeth as the firefighter smiled.

“I can see that too. Don’t worry, we’re gonna keep using some of you guys up here, if you want -“

“Damn right,” Neil interrupted and everybody froze at the vehemence in his voice. 

It was the fireman that broke the sudden tension with a chuckle and a nod. “Okay…” The light on the helmet snapped in Steve’s direction. “I think you need to let someone have a look at you, Inspector. We’ve got ambulances arriving -“

“I’m not going anywhere,” the detective interrupted.

“I didn’t say that,” the strong, authoritative voice shot back. “I just want you to have that head of yours cleaned and bandaged -“

“And his leg,” Neil’s voice overrode and the headlamp dropped, focusing on the bloody left pantleg then snapped back up. “Okay, this is no longer a request, this is an order, Inspector. You’re talking to a captain here, and I don’t care right now if you’re in a different department, you’re going to do as I tell you, do you understand?”

There was another tense silence and Steve stared into the fire captain’s face, unable to see anything but the bright headlamp but also knowing the eyes were staring back just as forcefully. And if there was one thing he’d learned working with Mike over the past few years, it was not to question authority, especially when it had your best interests at heart.

He nodded once, curtly, then felt the strong hand that was still on his upper arm tighten. “Good. I’ll take you down.” The light turned on Neil. “If you can show my guys where you’re digging…?”

“You got it,” the guard agreed readily, glancing at Steve and smiling encouragingly. “I’ll see you in a bit,” he said, flashing a smile, as he turned and headed back across the rubble.


	11. Chapter 11

Mike had no idea how long he had been lying there, trying to breathe slowly and shallowly, still not sure if any air was able to seep through the rubble all around him. He knew it would be hours until he would be found; if the building had completely collapsed, like he was sure it had, they would have to begin search and rescue operations from the top down. And he was definitely down.

Awkwardly, with only one usable hand, he had turned the collar of his black topcoat up to cushion the back of his head against the cold floor. The brim of the fedora was pulled down over his face and he was keeping his eyes closed as a precaution; the fine concrete dust was continuing to drift down. And in the stillness and the silence, he thought of Steve. There were so many similarities between Bobby’s life story and that of his young partner besides their ages and the proximity of the towns they’d grown up in. He knew Steve had had a strained relationship with his father, and that he’d had a high draft number, which had turned out to be a blessing. And he also knew, because they had talked about it once, that the idealistic Freedom Rider hadn’t made up his mind about what he would have done if his draft number had come up, whether he would’ve reported for duty or fled to Canada as a dodger.

He swallowed heavily, trying not to think about what might have happened to the partner who had surprisingly become his best friend, continuing to hope that because he had been on the top floor, he might have been able to survive unscathed. It was a hope he wouldn’t let go of, not until he knew for certain one way or the other.

He felt his right hand shaken gently and suddenly all his senses were on alert. And in spite of everything, he smiled. “Are you there, Bobby?”

There was a soft snort then a quiet, “Yeah… I’m here, Mike.” 

The older man squeezed back. “Good… good. How are you feeling?”

“Okay… I guess. I still can’t feel my legs.”

Mike swallowed heavily. He knew that wasn’t a good sign. “Well, once they get us out of here, the feeling’ll come back.” He hoped he sounded more optimistic than he felt. “Listen, ah, you were telling me about when you got drafted. Do you feel up to talking some more?”

There was a slight hesitation before he heard, “Sure… what do you want to know?”

Relaxing, Mike smiled again. “Tell me what it was like, being over there…”

# # # # #

He was sitting on the back bumper of one of the firetrucks, watching the small crane lifting chunks of broken concrete and twisted metal away from the edges of what once had been a very big building. But surprisingly, from this vantage point, the pile of rubble was smaller than he had expected, which was encouraging.

His head wound had been cleaned and bandaged and his leg was now being locked after. In the dark all around him people were milling about: cops, firemen, people dressed like construction workers, which he assumed they were. More were arriving all the time. From the snippets of conversation he had overheard, this was, as far as anyone knew right now, the biggest disaster site in The City. And larger cranes, ones that would tower over the pile and be able to remove the debris at the top, were on their way as were lights that would help illuminate the entire area. 

It was too dark to see his watch, and he didn’t want to expend the energy, but he was pretty sure it was the middle of the night, that the rising sun was still hours away.

He could hear someone nearby talking loudly but his attention was on the fire captain that had helped him down and was now standing nearby, conversing with several of his men, gesturing at the building. He felt someone taping his right knee and looked down into the expectant face of the ambulance attendant looking after him. The stern-faced young man had his eyebrows raised. “Did you hear me?” he asked.

Steve shrugged slightly. “What?”

“I said, you’re going to need stitches, and I can’t do that here. You need to go to the hospital.”

Wincing, the cop shook his head, raising his voice. “I’m not going anywhere! Just - just do what you have to do… tape it up, I don’t care, but I’m going back up there -!“

“Hey!” The fire captain’s voice cut through the air and they both stopped, looking at him as he quickly approached. “What’s going on here?”

The ambulance attendant snorted. “He needs stitches in his leg, he should go -“

“I’m not going anywhere!” Steve interrupted angrily.

The captain raised both hands. “Quiet, both of you. Nobody has time for this.” He paused briefly, glancing at the young detective almost sympathetically before turning his attention to the medic. “What can you do for him here?”

There was a brief moment of defiance, then the attendant sighed. “I guess I can pull the edges together with surgical tape and wrap his leg tight.” He shrugged helplessly.

The captain looked at Steve. “Does that work for you?”

The cop nodded sharply. 

The captain dropped his hands. “Okay, fine. Can I get back to work now?”

Both young men nodded.

# # # # #

“But when I got home… I didn’t know what to do…”

“I can understand that,” Mike said softly. “War changes everybody…”

“Were you in the war?”

“World War Two? Yeah, I sure was. I was a Marine in the Pacific.”

There was a brief hesitation. “Did you kill anybody?”

Mike swallowed heavily. “Yeah…” he answered softly, “I did.”

“It feels horrible, doesn’t it?”

“Yes… yes, it does…”

They fell silent for a long time.

# # # # #

“What are you doing back up here? I thought for sure they were gonna ship your sorry ass to the hospital when they saw you.” Neil looked up with a quick grin when Steve finally it made it back up the ruins to where the digging was concentrated. The middle-aged guard straightened up briefly, straining in the darkness to stare at the fresh bandage on the cop’s forehead. When Steve opened his mouth to retort, he threw up his hands. “I know, I know, you’re not leaving till we find your partner.” His right hand shot out and he gripped the younger man’s shoulder, squeezing. “Neither am I.” He felt a shudder under his hand and squeezed again then flashed another quick smile as he turned back to the dig. “Well, you look a little better anyway… cleaner.”

Suddenly overwhelmed by the spontaneous, and totally unexpected, solidarity, Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then got back to work.

# # # # #

“So, ah, so who’s Patty?”

They had been quiet for quite awhile before Mike squeezed Bobby’s hand again, feeling the long fingers curl around his own. There was a warm laugh.

“Ah… Patty…” A soft sigh in a brief pause. “When I got home from ‘Nam, it didn’t feel like I fit in anymore, you know? The vets, they weren’t treated very well… we were hated…”

“Yeah, I remember…”

“I’d changed over there. I was against the war when I came back… went to all those anti-war protests they had here… I didn’t go home, back to Merced; I couldn’t face my father. I knew he wouldn’t understand…”

“So what did you do?”

There was a long pause. “I didn’t do anything,” Bobby said finally, softly. “I felt… isolated… alone. It felt like only other vets knew what I had gone through, nobody else. And I had no skills, I’d never had a real job.” There was a deep sigh. “So there I was, twenty-five and living on the streets… and now I’ve been living on the streets for six years…”

Mike felt his hand squeezed and he smiled sadly to himself. “That’s a long time…”

“Yeah, it is…. But I’m not alone, ya know…. There’s a lot a vets on the streets… a small army.” There was a short, ironic snort and Mike’s smile got a little wider, hoping the troubled young man could hear his soft, appreciative chuckle. “I, ah, I started doing drugs… to forget, you know…. And it worked. I did forget. But it got out of hand…” He squeezed Mike’s hand tightly and the older man held his breath. “I started doing heroin…”

# # # # #

He was slightly hunched over, accepting a chunk of concrete to pass along to the person behind him, when a wave of dizziness washed over him suddenly. He swayed dangerously, feeling the concrete block being pulled from his grasp, a startled voice yelling “Hey!”, and the strong grip of hands on his upper arms as the world swam and his knees buckled. Before he knew it he was sitting down, his head being forced between his upraised knees by a gentle hand on the back of his neck as he felt people crowd around him.

As he waited for the spinning to stop, there was a flurry of activity around him that he barely clocked then two strong hands gripped his shoulders, they were pushed back slightly and his head was raised. Neil was staring at him, and even in the dim illumination from the headlamps and occasional flashlight bouncing around, he could see the worry in the dark eyes.

“Enough, all right?” Neil said sharply, shaking the younger man’s shoulders lightly to make sure he had his attention. “I know you don’t want to stop, but you’re putting yourself, and everybody else up here,” he gestured around them with his head, “in jeopardy right now. You understand?”

Steve stared at him with as much defiance as he could muster then he sagged slightly, closing his eyes and nodding slowly.

“All right.” Neil’s tone softened and his grip tightened slightly. He glanced to his right then stared into the green eyes watching him pleadingly. “Look, ah, there’s a good spot just over there where you can be out of our way but still around… until you feel better enough to chip in again… okay?”

After receiving another reluctant nod, Neil smiled. He helped the injured young cop to his feet and they moved unsteadily several yards away. Steve sat slowly, with the guard’s help, then Neil quickly disappeared, scampering over the rubble towards the other end, returning about a minute later with something balled up in his arms. “Here,” he said, as he shook out the beige raincoat that had been discarded hours earlier. He leaned down, draping the coat over Steve’s shoulders and pulling it close around his neck. “That should keep you warm till you feel strong enough to get back to work,” he chuckled, ruffling the cop’s dirty and disheveled light brown hair before he turned away.

# # # # #

“Are you still an addict?”

There was another soft snort. “No…believe it or not. And I have Patty to thank for that…”

“Why? What did she do?”

“Saved my life… literally and figuratively.” There was a warmth in his tone that made Mike smile again.

“How did she do that?”

“She took my kit away.”

“You’re kidding? Just like that?”

Bobby chuckled softly, as if remembering something fondly. “Yeah, just like that. I was pretty strung out when she met me. She’d been living on the streets herself for over ten years by then. Her husband had died a coupla years before. He was a drunk and they had no savings and she couldn’t pay the rent and got tossed out on the street. But she stayed straight, she stayed sober. I don’t know how she did it but she did it…”

Bobby stopped talking suddenly. After the rush of words, there was a sudden intake of breath, a sharp gasp, and Mike felt the fingers around his hand tighten with an almost bone-crushing intensity. Mike held his breath and waited, straining to hear anything that would tell him what was going on. 

After several long tense seconds, the fingers gripping his own relaxed and there was long loud exhale and then silence. Mike waited, his heart starting to pound. “Bobby…?” Still more silence. “Bobby!”


	12. Chapter 12

Holding the beige raincoat tightly around his neck, he watched as the rescues and recoveries continued without pause. They were discovering more and more people alive; injured, sometimes critically, but alive. He was unable to stop shaking, partly from the chill in the air, he knew, but also from the deep-seated fear that he kept trying to push from his mind, the fear that the further down they dug, the more bodies they would find.

More help had arrived. Two large cranes, capable of moving even the biggest chunks of concrete and steel, were being moved into positions on either sides of the collapsed structure, and two huge light towers on stanchions had been set up at opposite corners. Bright klieg lights on smaller stands had been placed on the ground all around the wreckage site. At four in the morning, it was now as well-lit as Candlestick Park for a night game.

The parking lot was filled with rescue vehicles, a continuous stream of ambulances coming and going. Several coroners wagons had arrived and, even from where he was sitting, Steve could see an area that had been roped off, and the growing number of bodies that now lay under tarpaulins on the cold and unforgiving asphalt.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think, trying not to project. If there was nothing else he had learned from Mike in the past few years, it was to never give up hope. He let go of the raincoat and shrugged it off as he climbed gingerly to his feet and, moving slowly and carefully, ignoring every part of his body that was screaming at him, joined the human chain again.

# # # # #

Mike’s eyes were squeezed shut. He was trying to breathe shallowly through his open mouth, trying to control the trembling that was wracking his entire body. The cold from the cement floor had been seeping through the wool topcoat for hours, chilling him to the bone, but he knew it was the fear that was beginning to get the better of him.

He had no idea how much time had passed as he continued to hold Bobby’s limp hand, not willing to give up, not willing to accept in his heart what his mind kept telling him. The one small flicker of hope he was clinging to was that the young man’s hand had not grown cold. 

The silence was becoming oppressive. He had not heard a thing, not a cry, not a shout, no sound of heavy machinery moving the debris… nothing. 

Against everything he believed in, against every instinct, against everything he had ever told Steve over the years, he was beginning to lose hope.

# # # # #

By the time the first faint glow on the eastern horizon heralded the dawn, the cranes and rescues crews had worked their way down to what was left of the second floor. Many bodies had been found but many more victims had been found alive, and every time that happened there was a renewed vigour that infused the rescuers, spurring them on.

Well aware and uncharacteristically accepting of his limitations, Steve continued to help working the human chain under Neil’s watchful eye. With only quick breaks to slug down cans of Coca-Cola brought to them by volunteers, they had pressed on, starting to make good progress. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all taking too long, 

# # # # #

He was taking another slow deep breath when he felt the fingers in his right palm twitch slightly. His eyes shot open and he held his breath, every sense on full alert, praying it wasn’t just wishful thinking. A couple of very long seconds later, the fingers moved again, and he closed his own around them.

“Bobby…. Bobby, can you hear me?”

The fingers tightened a little more. Mike shook his hand gently. “Bobby, are you still with me?” He waited again. There was a long silent pause and then a soft exhale.

“Can you hear me, son?” Mike didn’t even try to mask the fear and worry in his voice.

There was another slow exhale, this time a little louder, then a quiet, “Yeah… yeah, I’m still here…”

Mike exhaled loudly with a relieved chuckle. “That’s what I wanted to hear…” He shook the weak hand in his own again. “How are you doing?”

He could hear a couple of deep, pain-filled breaths. “I’m okay,” Bobby lied, “but it hurts a lot…”

“I’m sure it does. But they’ll be here soon, I promise. And I need you to promise me you won’t pass out again, okay?” He chuckled gently to let the young man know he was only half-joking; he felt the fingers tighten around his own.

“I’ll try…” came the strained reply punctuated with a soft snort, and Mike smiled to himself, in awe of the strength of the young man he hadn’t even really met but whom he was coming to know quite well.

They were silent for a few seconds then Bobby said, “Mike…?”

“Yeah?” He heard an almost embarrassed chuckle.

“Um… ah, I gotta pee…”

After a brief second of stunned silence, Mike started to laugh. “Me too. I’ve been trying not to think about it.” Bobby’s hand tightened around his and he heard a quiet chuckle. “Can you do it?” 

“I… I can’t move…”

Mike’s smile disappeared. “Just do it, son… just do it…”

A second of silence then, “Okay….”

Mike tightened his grip on the young man’s hand and waited. When he felt the long fingers tighten, he squeezed back. “Feel better?”

“Yeah…” 

“Good.” Mike snorted softly in embarrassed amusement. “Listen, ah, I’m gonna need my hand back.”

“What…?”

“Well, my, ah, my left wrist is broken…” A quick and warm chuckle reached his ears and he felt the fingers let go of his hand. “Be right back,” he said with a laugh as he pulled his right arm out of the tunnel.

# # # # #

With the sun completely up, it was now easier for everyone to see the extent of the damage. And though almost half of the debris had been removed and they were making good progress on what was left of the second floor, there was obviously, and worryingly, a long way to go until every body and every survivor had been located and extracted.

It looked like it was going to be a glorious late summer day, its sunny innocence in sharp contrast to the tragedy unfolding on the abandoned pier. 

The large group had just extracted an unconscious older woman with two broken legs and a gash on the back of head when an authoritative voice bellowed at them through a bullhorn. It was the fire captain who had arrived in the first wave hours before, the one that had forced Steve to receive medical attention.

As everyone paused to listen, he thanked them all for their tireless efforts, explained that working on the dwindling pile was getting more intense and more dangerous, and that there were now enough professionals on site to take over the search and rescue. But he was also quick to tell them that their help was still needed on the ground, continuing to remove debris further afield and helping with the injured. Despite a lot of concerned grumbling, people began to work their way down, allowing the experienced hands to take over and continue the life-saving work.

Steve, who had sunk to his knees then sat, trying not to let anyone see his discomfort, began to push himself up again when he felt a strong hand around his upper arm. He froze then looked up into Neil’s smiling face. “You look like shit, man,” the guard chuckled gently, helping him stand. “Come on, I’ll help you get down.” He frowned. “Where’s your raincoat?”

Finally, albeit unsteadily, on his feet, Steve looked around then shook his head carefully as if trying to remember. “Ah, over there somewhere,” he mumbled, pointing several yards away. 

Neil looked in that direction, squinting and frowning, then shrugged. He took a step away then turned back. “You musta had a jacket too, right? I mean, you wouldn’t just’ve been wearing a raincoat, right?”

Steve shrugged, shaking his head again. “Yeah, but I have no idea…”

Neil smiled quickly. “I’ll keep an eye out for it.”

# # # # #

By the time they made their way down to solid ground, Steve was getting more and more unsteady on his feet. Neil kept a hand on his arm as he led him through what seemed like a small army that had descended on the disaster site. 

He was being gently led towards the same firetruck he had parked himself on before when he heard his name called, the voice filled with a worried urgency. He wobbled to a stop, looking in the direction of the call, surprised to recognize a uniformed sergeant who had briefly been one of his trainers just after he’d graduated from the academy. With a discreet nod and smile at the young detective, Neil let go of his arm and melted into the milling group around them. Steve’s eyes followed him with a curious frown before focusing on the sergeant.

“Jeez, kid, what the hell happened to you?” The paunchy grey-haired man’s eyes were looking up him and down, obviously worried, then nodded towards the fallen building. “Were you in that?”

Swallowing dryly, Steve shook his head then shrugged ineffectively. “I, ah, I was on the top floor… I got lucky.”

“Jeez, you sure did. Look, you need to sit down.” He grabbed Steve’s arm and slowly led him towards the back of the firetruck. As he started to help the obviously injured young man sit, he glanced around quickly. “Listen, ah, some a your guys from Homicide are around here somewhere. I saw them. You stay here and I’ll try to find them, okay?”

Nodding, Steve leaned back against the red panel of the firetruck and closed his eyes, trying not to give in to what his body was demanding of him. He could hear the babble of voices around him but no words over the roar of the machinery, the cranes and several front end loaders moving the debris. 

Suddenly everything stopped and the entire area became eerily quiet. Curious, he opened his eyes and lifted his head from against the truck. Then he heard someone yell, “Over here!”, the engines roared to life again, and people began running towards the frantic shouting.

He was still looking in that direction when he heard a familiar gravelly voice almost bellow in his ear, “There you are! Hell, we’ve been looking for you guys for hours!”

He turned his head slowly, trying not to aggravate the headache that he could no longer ignore, to see Healey and Haseejian hurrying up to him, worry written all over their faces.

Steve raised a hand to his forehead, wincing. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Looking for you and Mike,” Healey replied pedantically. “A black-and-white spotted your car in the lot over there,” he gestured with his head, “and called Homicide. We figured you guys were in there.” They had been studying their young colleague with anxious scowls, and were obviously not happy with what they were seeing.

“Where’s Mike?” Haseejian asked quickly, looking around.

Despair flashing briefly over his face, Steve shook his head. “I don’t know. I was on the top floor… but he was on the first.”

Healey’s florid face went pale; Haseejian turned quickly to stare at the pile of rubble that had once been a warehouse. When he turned back, he looked stricken. “They’re, ah… they’ve been pulling people out that are still alive, we’ve seen it…” he said with a small but hopeful smile. 

With a soft nod, Steve looked down, feeling a tightening in the back of his throat. “Yeah… but a lot of them aren’t…” he said quietly, turning to stare between firetrucks at the makeshift morgue that had been set up in the parking lot. “A lot of them aren’t…”


	13. Chapter 13

He had no idea how much time had passed. He couldn’t lift his left arm to see his watch, and it was too dark anyway. He knew he had drifted off once in a while, more from exhaustion than anything else, but he hadn’t slept, and he was definitely stiffening up, unable to move his legs. The throbbing in his left wrist had settled down, only rearing its ugly head when he forgot and moved it. 

He tried to lick his lips; his mouth was dry. It was becoming harder and harder to talk and he knew he was becoming dehydrated. The chill that had seeped through his topcoat, suit jacket and vest added to the misery, and he was now starting to wonder if help would indeed come before it was too late.

Bobby had fallen silent a long time ago but occasionally he felt the warm fingers move and knew the young man was fighting the same battle. He took comfort in that.

# # # # #

“Here.” 

A cardboard cup appeared in front of him and he could smell the comforting odour of strong coffee. He looked up into Haseejian’s stern visage. Moving slowly, he reached out and gingerly took the cup. “Thanks.”

The big sergeant’s worried eyes stared at the younger man’s bloody fingertips once again. They were rubbed raw in several places, and he had torn a fingernail off; others were down to the quick. Both hands looked uncomfortably painful. “Dan’s tracking down something for you to eat,” he relayed as he sat on the bumper of the firetruck beside his colleague. “You know, you really should let us take you to the hospital -“

Midway through a sip, Steve snapped his head up as quickly as he could, spilling a bit of the steaming hot liquid. 

“Okay, okay,” Haseejian said quickly, raising both hands in supplication, “I won’t mention it again, I promise.” As he watched the younger man take another sip of the coffee, he reached out and ran his hand comfortingly across his back.

They had been staying out of the way, watching as the rescue efforts continued. The sun was now high in the sky, a warm sunny day that belied the tragedy unfolding before their eyes. The tall pile of rubble was being cleared with painstakingly slow and deliberate care, and they were now working on what remained of the ground floor, different teams starting from the outside edges with meticulous precision.

The whole scene had taken on a strange rhythm. The entire area would go silent, all engines turned off, all voices hushed, and everyone would freeze, listening. Then, if they were lucky, someone would shout, “Over here!” and the frantic rescue efforts would once again commence until the victim, sometimes very badly injured, sometimes not, was extracted.

But as the day wore on, and the heap of ruins became smaller and smaller, there were fewer shouts of “Over here!”, and eventually they stopped pausing to listen altogether. And the overwhelming reality began to sink in that this was no longer a mission of rescue but now purely one of recovery.

Haseejian’s hand slid gently up Steve’s back till it rested on the nape of his neck. He squeezed, dropping his own head as he tried to quell the emotions he knew were boiling just below the surface, not wanting his despair to overwhelm them both. He knew he had to stay strong, not only for the young man sitting beside him but for himself.

# # # # #

Mike’s eyes snapped open. He lifted his head slightly, straining to hear. A slight smile curled his lips and he shook his right hand. “Bobby! Bobby!” he called through the tunnel. He felt the warm fingers curl around his hand slightly.

“Ummm…?”

“Bobby, can you hear me?”

“Unh-hunh…” 

“Do you hear it? The engine…. Can you hear it?” He paused, waiting for a response.

There was a long silence then a soft, “Yeah…. yeah….”

“Hang on, son, they’re coming. They’re gonna get us out.”

“Yeah…. That’s good…”

“Yes, it is.” Mike let his head fall back again, the smile lingering.

# # # # #

“So, you got a choice,” Healey said with a chuckle as he approached Steve and his partner at the back of the firetruck, his hands full. “I’ve got pizza,” he held out the small square cardboard box in his right hand, “and donuts,” he hefted a larger white box, with a small stack of napkins on top, in his left. “Which do you want?”

Steve had glanced up perfunctorily then dropped his eyes again. “I’m not hungry, thanks.”

Haseejian turned on him quickly. “You haven’t eaten in hours and you’re about to collapse. You’re going to eat something if I have to hold you down and force it down your throat, and right now I think I could hold you down with my pinky. Do you understand me?”

Steve’s defiant glare melted under his colleague’s ultimatum and he dropped his head, nodding softly. 

“Good,” Healey smiled, holding out both hands again. “So, which one do you want?”

Steve looked at both options and nodded at the box in the sergeant’s left hand. “A donut, please…”

Healey’s face split in a wide smile. “Great.” He looked at Haseejian. “Pizza for us.” He thrust the pizza box towards his partner, who reached for it quickly, then, picking up the napkins and handing them to Steve, opened the box of donuts. They both watched as the young inspector stared into the box then slowly reached in with one of the napkins and picked up a honey glazed donut. Neither of the older men moved until he had taken a bite then, smiling at each other, Haseejian opened the pizza box and held it out to his partner.

# # # # #

It seemed to be taking forever, but the sounds of the engines were gradually getting closer, Mike was sure. Part of him wished they would move faster but a part of him was also worried about the vibrations the heavy machinery was sending through the ground, and the possibility that, if they attempted to remove the wrong piece of rubble, it would send the rest tumbling down on them like a house of cards.

Suddenly he felt his hand squeezed, more strongly than he was expecting, and he smiled spontaneously in relief. 

“Mike…?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you something?” Bobby’s voice sounded almost normal; Mike felt his heart start to pound.

“Sure, of course.”

There was a soft chuckle. “I’ve never told anybody…” He paused, as if embarrassed.

Mike laughed gently. “Then I won’t tell a soul, I promise.”

There was a mirth-filled snort and then, “I like opera…”

The older man froze briefly then laughed again. “Opera?”

Bobby’s chuckle was infectious and he squeezed Mike’s hand tighter. “Yeah…”

“When did you get to see an opera?”

“I, ah, I was panhandling outside the Opera House a few months ago. This guy and his wife come out at intermission and they’re arguing, you know… and she stomps off. I was near them; I saw them and he saw me.” He paused, and Mike could hear him take a deep breath. “He put his ticket stub in my hand, said ‘Enjoy the show’ and stormed off…. So I went in.”

Mike laughed again. “And they didn’t stop you?” 

“Nope…” 

“Do you remember what show it was?”

“La Boheme.”

“With Jose Carreras? I saw that one.”

“You go to the opera?”

Mike chuckled self-consciously. “Yeah, I do. I don’t tell many people either…”

There was a soft sigh that sounded almost envious. “You ever see Pavarotti?”

Mike shook his head. “Naw, he hasn’t come here…”

“I’d sure like to someday… I have a tape of his… you know, his solos? I used to have a tape recorder but it broke…” His voice trailed off, and Mike wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or melancholy.

Shaking his hand, the older man said softly, “When we’re outa here and you’ve recovered from all this, Bobby, you and me’ll go see an opera. How does that sound?”

There was a soft and almost happy chuckle from the other side of the tunnel. “I’d like that…”

“Then it’s a promise.” Mike squeezed Bobby’s hand once again, heartened. 

The roar of the engines was getting louder.

# # # # #

“You know, you’d make everybody feel better if you’d lie down in the back of the car. I promise we’ll keep you abreast of everything -“

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve reiterated for what felt like the hundredth time. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs and his eyes closed. It was obvious to even the most casual observer that he was in a lot of pain.

“I didn’t mean go anywhere,” Haseejian tried to keep the frustrated edge out of his tone, “just across the parking lot over there.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” The Armenian sergeant was losing patience but he was equally as worried. It seemed like hours since they had pulled anyone alive from the rubble as they carefully picked their way through the dwindling pile of debris. And the hope for finding any more survivors had definitely diminished.

With a heavy sigh, Haseejian reached out and gently patted his young colleague on the back. “Don’t give up yet. You know he wouldn’t.”

After several long seconds, he saw Steve nod slowly.

# # # # #

The roar of the engines was slowly getting louder. But so was the now almost constant stream of concrete dust raining down on him. Lying on his back, it was getting harder and harder to keep it out of his nose and mouth, even with the dirty hanky over his face.

Conversation had petered out as the external noise grew progressively deafening but Mike could feel Bobby’s fingers still wrapped around his hand. If their luck continued, it wouldn’t be too long before their presence was detected and they would finally be freed. 

His heart started to pound and he bit his bottom lip in an attempt to stop the shaking. The first and only thing he wanted to see when he finally got out was Steve waiting for him, alive and well.

# # # # #

“Here, I found these for you.”

He heard the familiar voice from above and raised his head slowly. Grinning broadly, Neil was standing in front of him, the sports coat in one hand, raincoat in the other. Despite himself, Steve smiled and slowly sat up straighter, trying not to groan. Haseejian, still sitting beside him on the firetruck bumper, grabbed his arm to offer whatever assistance he could, exchanging a worried look with the middle-aged black man. Neil’s grin disappeared.

“Hey, you okay?”

“We’ve been trying to get him to at least lie down in the car but…” Haseejian shrugged helplessly.

“But he’s stubborn as a mule, I know,” the guard finished, staring at the young cop ferociously. “I spent all night tryin’ to get him to slow down. He’d have none of it.”

Steve smirked. He nodded towards the man beside him. “Norm, this is Neil. Neil, Norm.”

They nodded at each other.

“Neil’s a guard here. Norm works with me and Mike -“ He stopped suddenly, looking down, and the older men looked at each other again. Neil raised his eyebrows questioningly and Haseejian shook his head, mouthing ‘Not yet’ before reaching out to take the coats.

Suddenly there was a commotion from the rubble, voices yelling, people waving frantically.  
Haseejian stood as they all looked in that direction. “What’s going on?” he yelled at someone running past them.

Without stopping, the medic shouted back, “They’ve found someone alive!”

Haseejian looked down at Steve, who was trying to get to his feet. He pushed him back down with a stern, “You stay here!”, putting the coats in his lap and starting to move away.

Neil grabbed the older cop’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “You both stay here. I know what he looks like. I’ll go,” he ordered before sprinting towards the gathering crowd. 

Nodding to himself, knowing it was the right call, Haseejian sank back down on the bumper. He turned slowly to meet Steve’s penetrating but hopeful stare. “It’s gotta be Mike, Norm… it’s just gotta be…”


	14. Chapter 14

They couldn’t hear anything over the roar of the machines. Unable to sit still, Steve had gotten slowly to his feet, with Haseejian’s help, and moved the few feet to the rear corner of the firetruck to get a better look at the frantic activity about a hundred yards away on the outer fringe of the pile of rubble. 

The small pick-and-carry crane had lifted a large chunk of concrete and was backing away; rescue personnel immediately swarmed the cleared area, leaning in and crouching down. Then they could hear yelling and a couple of people were gesturing frantically for the medics, who raced forward with a stretcher. The group around the victim got so large they couldn’t see anything except bodies milling about, then they parted and four large fireman carrying the stretcher came into view, hurrying towards a waiting ambulance, which was out of sight beyond the firetrucks to the east end of the parking lot.

Steve watched anxiously, feeling Haseejian’s fingers digging into his shoulder. The stretcher, the medics following, disappeared from their view. Glancing quickly at his colleague, Steve started to follow when Healey suddenly appeared, heading towards them at a jog; Neil was right behind him. As they got closer, Healey started to shake his head. Crestfallen, Steve closed his eyes with a worried sigh, his shoulders sagging.

“It wasn’t Mike,” Healey said breathlessly at the same second Neil said, “It wasn’t him.” Healey’s head snapped around, his eyebrows shooting up, staring at the black man, about his own size and age, standing behind him, looking over his shoulder at Steve.

The young detective couldn’t stop the smile that briefly flashed across his face at his colleague’s confusion. “Ah, Dan, that’s Neil. Neil, this is Dan.”

“He work with you too?” Neil asked flatly as Haseejian chuckled.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, he works with me too.”

With a curt nod, Neil stepped past Dan and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t give up hope. The guy they just found is pretty badly hurt but he’s still alive, right?”

After a beat, the young cop nodded. “Right.” He felt a hand on his elbow.

“Come on, let’s sit down,” Haseejian said quietly, pulling Steve gently back towards the bumper. He looked at Healey and raised his eyebrows; his partner nodded, turned around and headed away. 

As Steve sat slowly and carefully, trying not to wince too noticeably, Neil said quietly, “Listen, I’ll, ah, I’ll give them a hand back there. We’ll find him…”

Looking down, Steve nodded almost absent-mindedly. Haseejian watched him worriedly.

# # # # #

Mike could hear the concrete blocks, angled jaggedly above his head, begin to shift and groan against each other as the vibrations from the heavy machinery grew even louder. He knew the load above their precarious location had to have been shrunk a great deal for them now to be working on the ground floor, but there was still enough heavy rubble to cause some serious damage if it was to come down.

He thought about yelling to try to get someone’s attention, but his mouth was too dry and his throat was sore. And he knew he wouldn’t be heard over the roar of the engines anyway. He would have to wait for a lull, if there was one.

The drone of the engine got even louder and he could hear what sounded like heavy metal chains scrapping against concrete. He heard yelling voices, then the grinding of concrete on concrete as very slowly he could sense one of the large chunks of debris dangling over his torso begin to move. Suddenly a sliver of light illuminated the tiny cavern where he was pinned. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath, and his right hand tightened around Bobby’s.

# # # # #

Steve was leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs, head down and eyes closed, when Healey dropped onto the bumper beside him. “Here, you need to take these,” the sergeant’s said without preamble.

The young detective turned his head slowly, opening his eyes. Healey was holding out a bottle of Tylenol and a can of Coke. “I don’t -“

“We’re not going to ask you twice,” Haseejian ordered from his other side as Healey raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Slowly, with great reluctance, Steve straightened up as best he could then held his torn up right hand out, palm up, while reaching for the Coke with the left. Smiling grimly, Healey handed him the Coke then took the cap off the Tylenol bottle and tapped two pills into his open hand. Both sergeants watched closely as he downed the pills with a swig of the soft drink, then smiled at them coldly. “Happy?”

“Hysterical,” Healey replied flatly, and Haseejian chuckled, patting their battered friend comfortingly on the back.

# # # # #

The grinding sound of concrete on concrete filled the air around him as he braced for the debris to come crashing down, knowing he would be unable to stop it. He could see, even though his eyes were squeezed shut, more light flooding in on him as his hand tightened around Bobby’s, wanting to shout ‘They’ve found us!’ but knowing he wouldn’t be heard.

The crunching noise stopped abruptly, the engine roar subsiding as it backed away, and he heard a voice above him yelling, “We’ve got another one!” He slowly opened his eyes. His upper chest and head were still covered, the blinding sunlight illuminating the black topcoat over his lower torso and left arm, lying limply as his side. He knew instantly he had to let them know he was still alive.

Gritting his teeth, knowing the agony he was going to put himself through, he bent his elbow, raising his left forearm, his hand dangling limply as he cried out in pain.

Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Someone screamed, “He’s alive!” Other voices could be heard yelling things he couldn’t make out, the roar of the engine kicked up again as the crane returned. He could see smaller pieces of the debris being carefully removed manually, enlarging the hole above him.

He tightened his grip on Bobby’s hand even more.

# # # # #

There was another uproar, excited shouts and a sudden flurry of activity. People began running towards the dig site. As Healey and Haseejian turned in that direction, Steve’s head snapped up and he straightened as quickly as he could, holding his breath, trying not to groan. He put both hands on the bumper and started to push himself up. Both sergeants automatically grabbed his arms, helping him stand, and they moved a few feet closer to get a better look.

All they could see was a crowd of people and the pick-and-carry crane removing another large chunk of concrete.

Healey looked at Steve. Their eyes met; Healey nodded, squeezed the younger man’s arm affectionately with a brief melancholic smile, then let him go and started away quickly.

As he watched him go, Steve dropped his head and took a deep, shuddering breath. He could feel Haseejian’s hand softly patting his back.

# # # # #

Trying to ignore the pain in his left wrist, his eyes squeezed shut once more, Mike waited tensely for more of the debris to be cleared. He could feel the warm sun on his face but kept his eyes closed, feeling the concrete dust continuing to rain down on him.

“Okay, okay, okay!” he heard a shout and, as the engine sounds died away slightly again, he felt and heard someone leaning over him, a hand gently pressing on his chest. “Can you hear me?”

He carefully opened his eyes. Whoever was above him was blocking the sun so he didn’t have to squint. Unsure if he could find his voice right away, he nodded. 

The hand on his chest patted him lightly in relief. “Great…. Can you move?”

Mike tried to clear his throat. “My legs are pinned…” he managed to get out.

He saw the head tilt in that direction. “Can you feel them?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think they’re broken.”

“Good, good. You, ah… just give us a few minutes and we’ll get you outa there.” There were a couple more gentle pats then the man backed away.

Mike closed his eyes, his heart pounding, starting to tremble again but this time from relief.

# # # # #

Steve hadn’t moved, staring at the activity about a hundred yards away, almost not blinking. Haseejian kept steeling glances towards him, feeling the slight body shaking under the hand he was keeping on the younger man’s upper arm, for support and comfort.

The minutes dragged by. Suddenly Neil broke away from crowd around the dig site and started towards them at a run. As he got closer they could see his face, see his smile. When he got within earshot, he stopped, still grinning, and yelled, “It’s him! He’s alive! And he’s talking!” Without waiting for a response, he spun and raced back to the scene.

Steve had frozen, as if the words hadn’t sunk in immediately, then his knees buckled. Haseejian, trying to contain his own elation, quickly grabbed him with both hands. “Whoa, whoa…” he soothed, steadying the younger man, “come on, let’s get you back down before you fall down.”

Their eyes met, both of them trembling. Steve snorted with a soft chuckle, unable to find words. Haseejian smiled. “I told you not to give up,” he said lightly as they shuffled slowly back to the firetruck.

# # # # #

Though it was only minutes, it seemed to take forever for the broken concrete and twisted steel beams that had pinned his legs to the floor to be removed. He could feel someone leaning over him again and he opened his eyes. 

“How you doing, fella?”

He was squinting against the bright sunlight, trying to use the brim of the fedora to shield his eyes. “Mike…” he managed to get out and he heard a soft chuckle. 

“Okay, Mike. Can you move your legs?”

Holding his breath, he tried to bend his right knee, surprised and grateful that his leg did what he asked it to. He let his breath out in a rush as he slowly bend the left as well.

“Take it slow,” the unknown voice said quickly. “Don’t want you to cramp up.” There was a pause then, “What about your right arm? Is it pinned as well?”

Mike shook his head as quickly as he could. “No, no…. There’s a guy beside me… he’s alive too…”

The man hovering over him sat up quickly, yelling, “We’ve got another live one!” The engine of the crane got louder as the activity ramped up quickly again. The man leaned back in. “Come on, let’s get you outa here.”

“No,” Mike shook his head as sharply as he could. “No… I’m not going without him. We’ve been through this together… I’m not leaving him behind…”

The silhouetted head above him froze for a long beat then nodded. “Okay, okay…” He straightened up and grabbed something then leaned forward again. “I’m just gonna put this blanket over you to protect you a little, okay?”

Mike closed his eyes in relief, nodding as the blanket was gently laid over his head. He smiled to himself, squeezing Bobby’s hand again.

He could hear the shouts, the roar of the crane engine as it moved back and forth, the thud and clang of pieces of concrete and steel being rapidly discarded as the rescuers worked feverishly. Then, suddenly it seemed, the cacophony died out, the engine slowed to idle and an almost ominous silence filled the air. 

He heard someone overhead again; the blanket was carefully removed from his face and he opened his eyes. The now familiar silhouette was hovering over him again and he smiled in anticipation. The man cleared his throat as he leaned forward and put his hand on Mike’s chest again. 

Mike stared, not moving, as time seemed to stand still. Then suddenly his throat tightened and tears sprung to his eyes as he saw the man start to shake his head slowly and he heard the words he didn’t want to hear, “I’m sorry…”


	15. Chapter 15

He was numb. He knew people were talking to him but he couldn’t hear the words, just the soothing tones. He knew someone was standing over him, leaning down. He felt gentle hands on both sides of his chest, carefully sliding him to the left so they could ease his right arm out of the small tunnel he had dug.

The face he couldn’t see hovered above his own again, repeating the same phrase over and over. It finally pierced through the fog enough for him to respond. “Mike, can you sit up?”

He blinked slowly, breathing through his mouth, then bobbled his head. “I think so…” he mumbled. He felt hands under his shoulders and the back of his head, and he was lifted into a sitting position, the jarring motion reawakening the pain in his wrist. He gasped, squeezing his eyes shut, and crossed his forearms across his body, cradling his left arm.

“Here,” he heard softly and felt something slide over his head, carefully so as not to disturb the hat, and very gently his left forearm was lifted and slipped into a sling. “There, that should help,” the calm voice murmured in his ear. 

He tried to focus on the face mere inches from his own but his vision was still blurry from the unshed tears. He thought he could make out a fireman’s helmet but he wasn’t sure. He took a deep breath and began to cough, inhaling more of the concrete dust still suspended in the air around him. His stomach muscles tightened as he leaned forward, wincing as he tried to draw breath, choking, feeling strong hands supporting him. He heard a voice yell, “Water! We need water!”

There was a frenzied flurry of activity around him which subsided somewhat when the now familiar voice said urgently, “Here, here…” He managed to lift his head and open his eyes slightly, still trying to take a deep breath. A small while plastic cup of water was hovering in front of his face and he reached up with a shaking right hand to guide it to his mouth. He managed to take a sip of the cool, very welcome liquid, closing his eyes, his shoulders heaving with the effort to breathe normally. He took another sip.

The hands supporting him released their grips, patting him lightly, comfortingly before disappearing. He felt the gentle hand on his shoulder tighten slightly as the cup was taken from his grasp. “Do you think you can stand?” 

After a beat, as if in a trance, he nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“Okay, let’s give it a try.” The fireman stood from his crouch then leaned forward, both hands under Mike’s right arm. Suddenly the other hands were on him again, on his back and supporting his upper left arm, and he felt himself almost lifted as he got his feet under him and stood. The hands stayed on him, holding him steady. “Are you okay? Do you think you can walk?” 

He could feel all the eyes staring at him and he nodded slowly. “Yeah… yeah, I think so…”

“Okay, great. We’re just gonna help you get over all this stuff here,” the rubble that had been the walls of his little hollow were indicated by a nod of the firefighter’s head, “so watch your step.”

The strong hands on his arms almost keeping his feet from touching the ground, Mike was guided over the debris, then everyone stopped. The rescue team wanted to make sure the man who had just spent almost a full day trapped in the rubble of a collapsed warehouse wasn’t in need of a stretcher to go any further. Satisfied that he was in better shape than they could’ve hoped, everyone except the lead fireman took a step back, watching him carefully. 

“How do you feel?” he was asked.

Still squinting in the sun, Mike looked around almost somnambulantly. He didn’t notice the intense dark eyes of a middle-aged black man watching his every move. He was still in shock, and not just because of the physical ordeal he had just been through. He heard a soft snort and the fireman leaned closer. “Ah, there’s some friends of yours around here somewhere that are going to be thrilled to see you,” he chuckled, his tone warm and encouraging. 

Mike nodded absent-mindedly, as if he hadn’t really heard. He looked down slightly and inhaled. “I want to see him,” he said softly.

The firefighter frowned. “See who?

Inhaling raggedly, Mike started to turn slowly. “Bobby…” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “I never saw him…” He felt a hand grab his right arm again as he took an unsteady step back towards the rubble. 

“Sure… of course,” came the quiet voice in his ear. 

With a grateful nod, Mike took another step closer to the debris then stopped. Lying on its side in a depression in the rubble was the body of a slight young man with long curly dark blond hair, his unlined face partially obscured by a well-kept beard and mustache. His eyes were closed and he looked almost serene, his lips curled in what looked like an incongruously content smile. His right hand, the one Mike had held for such a long time, lay near the opening of the tunnel that had connected more than just two people who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Mike stared at him for several very long seconds, as if trying to memorize every feature, feeling his entire body start to shake, the tears blurring his vision again. The hand that was on his arm slid up to his shoulder and he could feel the fireman’s fingers tighten in support. “We’ll, ah, we’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry.”

Swallowing heavily, Mike nodded, continuing to stare. He was breathing heavily through his open mouth as he fought for control, and he brought his right hand up to cover his eyes. He wanted to reach down, to touch the face of the young man with whom he had, so quickly, developed such a strong connection, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough. And people were waiting for him to leave; there were quite possibly others who needed rescuing just like he’d been and time was of the essence.

He nodded, turning slightly towards the fireman still holding his right arm. “Thank you,” he whispered. He felt the grip tighten again. 

“Come on,” the fireman said gently and helped him turn away. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked again as they started slowly, under very many watchful eyes, away from the ruins. 

Looking down but moving under his own steam, Mike nodded. He didn’t notice the middle-aged black man, obviously not a member of any of the kitted-up rescue teams, trailing discreetly behind, his eyes riveted to the back of his head, watching him closely with a soft, relieved smile.

Neil, trying to be discreet, slipped quickly around the group accompanying the newly rescued cop towards a waiting ambulance and leaned close to the firefighter at Mike’s side, whispering urgently and pointing towards the firetrucks. Nodding, flashing a grateful smile, the firefighter, whose nametag Neil noticed read ‘Clark’, laid a soft hand on the cop’s elbow and pointed to their left, as the group slowly changed direction. 

His head slightly lowered, taking each step slowly and carefully, Mike allowed himself to be guided away from what was left of the collapsed warehouse. Behind him, he could hear the engine of the crane crank up again as the search continued.

# # # # #

As the lull in what had become the almost normal cacophony had continued, Steve had struggled to his feet again, Haseejian at his side, and moved to where he could see the large group of rescuers still milling about. It was seeming to take forever this time to extract whomever they’d found and the Armenian sergeant knew that his young colleague was losing whatever little hope he’d had remaining.

Haseejian took a step closer and wrapped his arm around Steve’s shaking shoulders, a connection that both of them needed.

The tight crowd in the distance started to disperse slightly, and several turned to start away, They couldn’t see a stretcher, and both cops frowned, not sure what that meant. A group of people had started to slowly make their way towards the waiting ambulances when suddenly they changed direction towards the firetrucks. 

And that was when they saw him, in the middle of the small entourage of firemen, the down-turned face hidden by the fedora, the black topcoat now almost white with concrete dust. 

Haseejian felt the thin shoulders under his hand begin to tremble even more as Steve caught his breath then exhaled loudly with a slight whimper. His own throat tightened and his eyes stung as his fingers gripped Steve’s shoulder even tighter as they watched the slow progress towards them, neither them really believing what they were seeing.

# # # # #

Mike was putting one foot in front of the other, his mind still numb from everything that had transpired in the last few minutes. His entire focus was concentrated on moving forward, not really aware of where he was going, putting distance between himself and the horror behind him.

He felt a hand grip his upper right arm and he turned his head slightly. The fireman beside him was staring straight ahead and, when he felt the cop’s eyes on him, he nodded forward with his chin. Mike slowly followed the gesture, his eyes falling on a sight he thought he’d never see again and his measured pace slowed even more as his overwhelmed mind tried to process what was now before him.

He stopped, his face unreadable as his red-rimmed eyes stared without blinking at the spectre of the young man standing unsteadily several yards in front of him. He dropped his head and dragged a ragged breath into his lungs as he raised his shaking right hand to cover his face, feeling the hand on his arm tighten its grip.

Trying to control the trembling that was now visible to everyone watching, he raised his head and lowered his hand, his bright eyes boring into the face he seriously thought he might never see again. He felt the hand on his arm let go as he took another step forward.

Haseejian, almost unable to contain the smile that continued to build, oblivious to Healey who had suddenly appeared at his side, slid his hand from his young colleague’s shoulder to his back, giving him an encouraging pat before moving off.

Steve, his eyes suddenly bright, his quivering lips trying to form a smile, watched as the man he thought he might never see alive again slowly closed the distance between them.

As if as one, everybody else backed away, knowing that this moment was private, was personal. 

Mike slowly approached, his face haunted, his eyes unbearably sad. He stopped in front of his bandaged, bloody and disheveled young partner, who had obviously gone through an equally horrific ordeal, and stared at him silently. Very slowly, he raised his right hand and gently touched the younger man’s forehead near the dirty bandage as Steve’s eyes dropped to the sling supporting Mike’s left forearm.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked breathlessly, and a soft smile curled Mike’s lips as he nodded softly, briefly closing his eyes. He tried to smile back, feeling his throat constrict. “So am I…” he managed to get out before he took a step forward and slowly and carefully, mindful of the sling, wrapped his arms around his partner’s chest.

His eyes closing, Mike’s right hand snaked behind the younger man and cupped the back of his head, pulling him as close as he could. And some of the others around them watched, overcome by the scene playing out before their eyes, and others turned away out of respect for their privacy, they stood that way for a long time.


	16. Chapter 16

Haseejian felt a tap on his arm. Tearing is eyes from the poignant scene playing out several feet away, he turned to find Neil standing between him and Healey. With a nod of his head, the black guard pulled them further away, out of earshot.

He lowered his head, pulling them into a tight huddle, and kept his voice low. “Listen, ah, I think you guys should know what happened over there,” he nodded towards the area where Mike had been buried. He spent the next minute or two filling the two Homicide sergeants in on what little information he’d gleaned about their lieutenant and the young man who had been trapped beside him.

When Neil had finished, Haseejian turned his head slightly, nodding; his two colleagues still hadn’t moved, still coming to grips with the realization that they had both survived the harrowing ordeal relatively unscathed, all things considered. He looked back at the guard, who had provided them with such invaluable assistance throughout the entire nightmare, and patted him on the arm. “Thanks, man,” he said gratefully, unable to mask the sadness in his own eyes.

“You bet,” Neil grinned then turned his sober eyes on the young man he had watched over with a paternal eye. He stared at the emotional reunion, a lump forming in the back of his throat. “They’re tight, aren’t they?”

Healey snorted. “You have no idea.”

Neil’s warm smile wavered and he sighed softly with a sad chuckle. “They’re lucky…” he said quietly as he drifted away.

The inspectors watched him go, then looked at each other and smiled. Healey exhaled loudly and ran his hands over his tired face. “Look, ah, I’ll go get the car -“

“They’re not going anywhere in a car,” Haseejian interrupted sharply, nodding towards their colleagues. “They both belong in the hospital and Mike is not gonna talk me out of it, he can pull rank all he wants.” He turned on his heel and started back through the firetrucks to weave his way over towards the ambulances. Much to his surprise, the firefighter that had helped extricate Mike was leading medics wheeling two gurneys across the asphalt of the parking lot towards the firetrucks.

# # # # #

He felt Mike’s hand leave the back of his head and relaxed his clinch somewhat, his arms still around his partner’s chest but loose enough now so he could lean back and look up into his face. The sadness in the familiar blue eyes was heartbreaking. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Mike nodded softly. “Yeah… yeah. You?”

Steve tried to smile encouragingly. “Yeah. I got banged up pretty good, but nothing’s broken… just dented, I guess.” He tried to chuckle and was somewhat successful.

Mike smiled but it didn’t erase the sadness in his features. He inhaled raggedly, not taking his eyes from this young man he was suddenly so reluctant to let go of, and his strong right hand circled Steve’s shoulders and pulled him close once more. Steve could feel him shaking.

There was a discreet clearing of a throat from close by and, as one, they grudgingly turned their heads in that direction. Haseejian, with an apologetic smile, gestured towards the two nearby gurneys, and the patiently waiting ambulance attendants. He raised a warning finger, and his eyebrows, anticipating and putting the kibosh on any thought of resistance before it even had the chance to form in the lieutenant’s mind.

Surprisingly, and worryingly, there was no resistance. With a final brief clinch, Mike dropped his right arm and turned slowly and carefully, holding his breath as he took the few steps to the closest gurney. After a beat, with a concerned frown at his partner, Steve did the same. Before he turned around to sit, Mike paused and looked back towards the ruins, to where he knew the rescuers were carefully extracting the body of the young man whose luck had run out way too soon.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly turned his head and watched as Steve gingerly sat on the other gurney, allowing the medic to help him lie back, his face lined with pain. And, despite everything, a tiny relieved smile washed over his face.

# # # # #

Haseejian rode with them to the hospital, Dan following behind in one of the LTD’s. It was a quiet ride, no lights and sirens, and uncharacteristically no conversation at all from either of his injured colleagues. Worriedly, he kept them both under his watchful eye as they lay disturbingly still with their eyes closed. And he knew that although both of them were in various levels of pain from their respective injuries, it was the emotional trauma that was really taking its toll.

As the gurneys disappeared into separate examination rooms, the sergeant crossed to the bank of payphones, fishing in his pocket for a dime. He had just been connected to Captain Olsen when Healey appeared at his side, waiting patiently for the conversation to end.

Haseejian hung up then turned to his partner, his head down and his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb anyone. “Rudy’s asked us to stay, if we could. Turns out everybody’s tied up and all leaves have been cancelled. The City’s a mess. Seems there’s a lot of gas fires still burning all over town and a part of the Embarcadero near the Ferry Building came down, some cars were trapped.” He knew they were both tired, physically and emotionally, but that neither of them wanted to leave their colleagues at this point regardless of how they felt.

“What did you tell him?” Healey asked with a frown.

Haseejian smiled wryly. “I told him we weren’t going anywhere.”

Matching the smile, the Irish sergeant slapped his partner on the arm then, silently, the two Homicide veterans found empty chairs in the crowded waiting room and sat.

# # # # #

It seemed like forever before Healey spotted what looked like an emergency room physician scanning the room, looking for someone. His cop’s intuition telling him they were the object of the search, he tapped Haseejian on the arm as he stood, raising his hand to get the doctor’s attention as he started to pick his way across the room, his partner in tow.

The grey-haired doctor nodded in greeting as they approached. “Are you gentlemen with the two police officers who were brought in a couple of hours ago?”

The cops introduced themselves quickly, both noting the name Bergeron on the doctor’s nametag. Healey chuckled softly. “Hey, you looked after me a coupla years ago when I wrecked my knee chasing some scuzzball.”

Bergeron’s brow furrowed slightly then he smiled. “Oh, yeah, I remember you. How’s the knee doing?”

Healey grinned. “Good as new.”

The doctor nodded happily then turned sober. “Well, I wish I could say the same about your colleagues right now.” As their brows furrowed, he raised the hand not holding the two metal clipboards. “Now don’t get me wrong, they’re both going to be fine; just not tonight.” With a grim but encouraging smile, he flipped the top clipboard open, his eyes scanning the report. “Ah, Steven Keller…” He glanced up at them briefly. “I didn’t look after him so give me a second to read this…” He paused, continuing to scan the handwritten form. “Okay, ah, he’s been through an entire battery of x-rays and he has no broken bones, lucky for him, but he does have some bone contusions, to his right hip and pelvis, which are going take some time to heal. Longer than a muscle bruise, unfortunately. He’s definitely going to have to take it easy for awhile but they’ll eventually go away on their own.”

He flipped the top page over and continued to read. “He’s also had a skull x-ray and it’s clear so there’s no brain injury, which is a very good thing. However, I see here he has a laceration on his forehead that’s going to need the services of a plastic surgeon so he doesn’t have a noticeable scar. And that’s been scheduled for later tonight.” He flipped another page. “And lastly, he has quite a large laceration on the calf of his left leg which was preliminarily treated on the scene but that was several hours ago. The wound has been cleaned and stitched and he has been placed on IV antibiotics.” He looked up and snapped the clipboard closed with a grim but encouraging smile. “We’re going to keep him here tonight, of course, and we’ll see how he is tomorrow and if he can go home or not. Right off the top, I’d say no, not tomorrow… but we’ll see.”

He changed clipboards and opened the second one. “Now, the lieutenant I looked after,” he told them with a smile, “so I really don’t need this.” He hefted the clipboard with a chuckle. “Considering he was trapped under all that rubble for almost twenty-four hours, he’s in remarkably good shape. He’s dehydrated so we have him on fluids, and he took quite a severe blow to the head. But, like his partner, he’s been x-rayed and there’s no sign of brain trauma, so I think we dodged a bullet there too.

“However, his left wrist is another matter. He’s going to need a pin, and we’re gonna put it in tonight. We’re just waiting for an OR to free up - we’ve been overwhelmed, as I’m sure you can imagine, and as a broken wrist is not a life-threatening condition, we have to wait. But he’s been medicated and he’s not feeling any pain so time is on our side.” He smiled. “He’s going to be with us for a day or so as well but, considering what he went through, he got off lucky.”

The sergeants had taken it all in wordlessly, nodding occasionally, starting to relax the longer the doctor talked. It was Haseejian who spoke first. “So, ah, Doc, is there any chance we could see them tonight?”

Bergeron shrugged. “Well, they’re in separate rooms… we’re tight for space too or we’d keep them together. Ah, I can check on the inspector but I have a feeling, looking at this,” he raised the clipboards slightly again, “that he’s probably been given some pretty strong painkillers so he might be pretty out of it right now. But I know for a fact that the lieutenant is still awake.” He smiled encouragingly. “How about you give me a couple of minutes and I’ll see if he’s up to it and if he is, I’ll send someone to get you. Does that work?”

Both sergeants nodded. “Yeah, it sure does,” Healey smiled. “Thanks, Doc.” As the physician walked away, he looked at his partner, exhaling loudly. The prognosis for both their colleagues was a lot better than had been expecting.

# # # # #

The bed slightly raised, Mike’s swaddled left forearm and hand was elevated on a pillow at his side, an IV line in the back of his right hand. Now dressed in a light blue hospital gown and covered with a flannelette blanket, his eyes were closed, his face pale, the lines more deeply drawn. He looked exhausted.

They had been standing bedside for several long seconds before Healey cleared his throat softly. Mike’s eyes opened slowly and slid in their direction. A very tiny smile curled his lips. “Hi, fellas,” he said softly, his voice raspy and weak. “How are you doing?”

Both sergeants smiled. “We’re doing great. How are you doing?” Haseejian asked warmly, taking a step closer to the bed.

The lieutenant snorted softly. “Better than I deserve,” he said enigmatically, closing his eyes. 

Haseejian snapped a concerned look over his shoulder at his partner; Healey shrugged and shook his head, his eyes widening. The Armenian sergeant cleared his throat slightly. “Ah, Mike, we just wanted to check on you, see if you needed -“

The older man opened his eyes and pinned them both, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, I need you to do something for me,” he said with as much emphasis as he could muster at the moment.

Both sergeants shrugged. “Sure, anything,” Healey assured him.

“I need you to make sure that Bobby gets a military funeral. He’s a veteran… and he’s entitled to one…”


	17. Chapter 17

It seemed like every part of his body was aching, and he could feel the uncomfortable pinch of a needle in the back of left hand. He tried to bend his legs then froze quickly; there was a tightness around his left calf and a stab of pain shot through his lower leg. With a frustrated sigh he belatedly remembered the laceration and let his left leg ease back to the bed.

He exhaled loudly through his open mouth and tentatively opened his eyes. The room was bright, sunlight bouncing off the light grey ceiling high over his head. 

“It’s about time you woke up, I gotta get back to work,” came a familiar, and amused, voice from his right and he turned his head on the pillow, frowning slightly.

“Are you guys still here?” he asked in amazement, his voice croaking, and he tried to clear his throat, his eyes sliding to the plastic cup of water on the small metal table beside the bed.

Chuckling, Dan Healey got quickly to his feet and picked up the cup. “Not ‘still here’,” he explained as he reached for the remote. “Let’s raise the bed a little bit, shall we; don’t want you to drown, right?” Without waiting for a response, he pushed one of the buttons and the bed began to rise. When he thought Steve was elevated enough, he released the button and handed his colleague the cup. “Norm and I went home last night right after we talked to Mike. You were kinda out of it.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “We just got back about an hour ago.”

With a soft groan, Steve took the cup, his eyes snapping back to the sergeant’s face. “How is he?”

“Mike? He’s fine, don’t worry about him. They had to put a pin in his left wrist,” he pointed to his own automatically, “but because they couldn’t get him into an OR till four this morning, so we were told, they figure he’s going to be sleeping most of the day. So you’re stuck with me right now.” Healey smiled broadly. “But don’t worry, it’s only for a bit,” he followed up quickly with a chuckle, “I’m just here to see if you need anything.”

Steve blinked slowly as if trying to process not only what Healey was telling him but what had transpired in the past forty-eight hours. It was all quite overwhelming. He brought his left hand to his forehead and carefully touched the fresh bandage, remembering the visit from the plastic surgeon the previous evening, who had numbed his head and stitched him up with impressive skill and speed.

He took a pull on the straw then put the cup of water back on the table, allowing himself time to think. There was so much going through his mind. “Do you know when they’re going to let me out?”

Healey shook his head with a shrug. “Nope. But I do know it’s not today.”

The younger man nodded, uncharacteristically accepting of the pronouncement; Healey knew he must really be feeling the effects of his injuries. “Ah, I don’t know, maybe a change of clothes, I guess.”

Healey grinned. “Sure, piece a cake. I can get some clean clothes for Mike too while I’m at it. Where are your keys, do you know?” He leaned forward and opened the small drawer in the bedside table. He and Haseejian had been given both Steve and Mike’s guns and badges the night before, the hospital staff not wanting to be responsible for them, but keys were another matter. There were two sets in the drawer, one obviously belonging to the LTD. Healey took both. “I’ll have to go get Mike’s,” he mumbled under his breath as he pocketed them, realizing he and his partner would have to make a return trip to the pier to bring the tan LTD back to the Hall.

“Don’t bother,” Steve mumbled, pointing at Healey’s pocket. “I have his house key on my ring.”

Healey paused momentarily, then grinned. “Oh… of course you do, what was I thinking…?” He chuckled. “Anything else? Want me to bring you something to eat or something to read?”

Steve shook his head slowly with a slight, appreciative smile. “No, thanks, I’m okay.” As Healey started to turn away, he stopped him. “Dan…?” The sergeant turned back. “Ah, look, ah, just after it happened… the ‘quake… on the top floor. I, ah… we managed to save a little kid… and a baby. But the mom…” He inhaled deeply, his stare far away under a furrowed brow. “She wasn’t very old, about twenty-three, twenty-four maybe… long blond hair, thin…” He cleared his throat. “She, ah… she didn’t make it…” He swallowed heavily. “Can you try to find out who she was and what’s going to happen to the kids?” He met the sergeant’s kind dark eyes sadly.

Healey nodded slowly. “Sure… sure, I’ll find out what I can. It might be a little too soon for them to make identifications, you know? They’re, ah, they’re probably still cleaning up at the site and they might not’ve even recovered everybody yet… but I’ll see what I can do.”

Steve smiled gratefully, perfunctorily. “Thanks…”

Healey grinned encouragingly. “No problem. Anything else?”

The younger man paused, both of them knowing that he wanted to ask something else but not wanting to be a burden. Healey raised his eyebrows. “And…?” he prompted with a knowing chuckle.

“Well, there was that guy that was helping me out,” Steve began tentatively and Healey cut him off, his voice suddenly professionally clipped and formal.

“Black, about my age. My height as well but in a little better shape. Named Neil? That guy that was helping you out?” He paused, staring at the younger man smugly, his eyes sparkling.

Steve’s glare narrowed and a smirk twisted his lips. “Yeah,” he said slowly, sarcastically, “that guy.”

“You introduced him to me yesterday, don’t you remember?” he asked with a curious frown, not really expecting an answer. He was sure there were a lot of things that had happened in the last forty-eight hours that the young man wouldn’t remember right away.” “Don’t worry about it, there was a lot going on,” he said quickly with a dismissive shake of his head. “And don’t worry, Norm got his bona fides yesterday before he disappeared.” He shrugged and laughed. “Hey, we’re not amateurs, you know. So, what, do you want us to try and find him?”

Still smirking, Steve shook his head then sighed heavily with a smile. “No, ah, no, not right now. After I get outa here I’ll try to track him down.”

“Well, Norm and I can help you out with that, don’t you worry.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen, ah, I’m gonna get outa here. There’s a lot still going on out there, you know, after the ‘quake. The department’s stretched pretty thin at the moment. We’ll drop by tomorrow morning, maybe get take you home, who knows, hunh?”

Steve nodded noncommittally, appreciating the confidence. Healey leaned forward and slapped him lightly on the arm. “You take it easy, okay. I hear that bone bruises can be really painful.”

“I can vouch for that,” Steve said with a soft chuckle. 

Laughing Healey crossed to the door. Before he opened it, he turned back towards the bed, his smile disappearing. He stared at his young colleague for a beat. “You did a hell of a job yesterday, helping to pull those people out of the rubble. I don’t know how you did it, after what you went through yourself.” He smiled proudly. “You saved lives yesterday… remember that, will you?” His smile vanished again and he clenched his jaw, swallowing heavily. “You saved lives…” Without another word, he turned to the door, pulled it open and left without looking back.

# # # # #

His left arm felt thick and warm, and it was slightly elevated. He tried to flex his fingers but they refused to move. His mouth and throat were dry and his head felt heavy. He moaned slightly as he rolled his head gently from side to side and opened his eyes slowly.

“Do you want some water?” he heard a familiar voice close to his right ear and suddenly a white plastic cup was thrust in front of his face. He refocused, blinking slowly and exaggeratedly, then he squinted.

“Rudy?”

“Yeah, who else would it be?” came the gravelly growl. “You want some water?”

Slowly, still trying to get his bearings, Mike reached up with his right hand and guided the cup and straw closer to his mouth to take a long sip. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” the captain chuckled as he straightened up and put the cup on the side table. 

Mike looked around the room as if trying to remember why he was there then looked at Olsen again. “What time is it?”

“Three o’clock.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Yeah. They told me they couldn’t operate on your arm until some ungodly hour of the morning so…?” He shrugged. “How are you felling?”

Mike stared at his forearm in the cast then shook his head slightly as if clearing it. “Ah, I’m not sure… Okay, I guess…” His eyes snapped towards the captain. “How’s Steve?”

Olsen had already raised both hands in anticipation. “Relax, relax, he’s fine. He’s in a room down the hall. He’s doing great. He has some bone bruises - which sound painful, actually - but nothing’s broken, and he’s got stitches in his head and his leg but he’s fine. So you can relax.”

Mike, who had been staring at him from under a very worried brow, visibly deflated in relief.

Olsen chuckled slightly. “Considering what you both went though, it coulda been a helluva lot worse. You got off lucky, both of you.” He was going to add ‘unlike a lot of others’, but remembered what Healey and Haseejian had told him, about someone named Bobby and all the poor unfortunate souls who had perished in the collapsed warehouse, and stopped himself. Instead, he reached out and self-consciously patted his old friend’s right forearm.

“Listen, ah, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I gotta get outa here. We’re up to our eyeballs in earthquake clean-up out there, it’s all hands on deck, if you know what I mean. Maybe you’re lucky being stuck in here for awhile. Anyway, ah, Condon wanted me to drop by and check in on both of you and let him know how you’re doing.”

“Thanks, Rudy.” Mike smiled gratefully, but the sadness in his eyes was obvious and disturbing. 

Olsen tried to sound encouraging as he headed across the small room to the door. “The, ah, the nursing staff told me to let them know when you woke up. I think they’re gonna bring you something to eat.” He stopped at the door and a tentative smile curled his lips again. “I’m glad you’re okay and I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.”

“Yeah… thanks, Rudy.” Mike watched as the door closed then stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes. He wasn’t hungry; there was a knot in his stomach that had been there since he’d walked away from the warehouse. And, right now, he wasn’t sure if it would ever go away.

# # # # # 

He had picked at his dinner, mostly just pushing the unappealing food around on the plastic plate to make it look like he’d eaten more than he had. He knew they wouldn’t be fooled, but he didn’t have an appetite, and he was at a loss to be more creative.

He’d tried not to think, tried not to let his mind relive the harrowing events over and over, but he wasn’t successful. Every time he closed his eyes he went right back there. Every time…

He was staring unfocused at the end of the bed when he heard the soft creaking of the heavy wooden door opening and turned his head slowly in that direction. Then he froze, his eyes widening and his heart starting to pound as his visitor, wearing a blue robe over a hospital gown, his left arm in a sling, shuffled slowly towards him.

“They said I could go for a walk,” Mike smiled affectionately.


	18. Chapter 18

His face lighting up, Steve pushed himself higher on the bed, trying not to wince too noticeably. Though he wasn’t entirely successful, Mike chose not to acknowledge it as he continued to slowly shuffle deeper into the room. 

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you today,” Steve chuckled warmly as his partner crossed the small room.

Grinning, Mike approached the bed, snagging a nearby plastic chair with his good hand and bringing it closer to the bed. Trying not to groan, he sat heavily, happy to be down. “Yeah, I got a late start,” he laughed softly. 

“I heard. Nothing like going into surgery in the wee small hours of the morning.” They both chuckled. 

“Well, better late than never, I guess,” Mike shorted with a small shrug.

“How does it feel?”

The older man raised his eyebrows as he glanced down at the half-cast on his left forearm. “Actually, pretty good. It feels a bit swollen and my fingers are stiff but there’s no pain. I don’t know if it’s the drugs or what, but I’m not complaining.” He chuckled self-consciously then nodded at the bed with his chin. “How are you doing? I heard nothing’s broken, thank God.”

Still smiling warmly, and obviously relieved, Steve snorted with a confirming nod. “Yeah, they told me I have what’s know in their vernacular as ‘bone contusions’. That’s bruises to you and me,” he chuckled with bobbing eyebrows.

“Yeah, I kinda got that. Does it hurt?”

“Only when I move.”

“Ah… I see. Well, that sounds… painful…” Mike commented with a dry chuckle then sobered, still smiling but sadly now. “All things considered, we were both really lucky… weren’t we?”

His own smile now strained, Steve nodded. “Yeah, we sure were…” he agreed softly. 

They looked at each other silently for a long beat, then Mike leaned forward, reaching out to drop his right hand on Steve’s forearm and squeezing. He took a deep breath and smiled shakily. “So, ah, so where were you when it hit?”

Steve, who had staring at his partner with a slightly concerned frown, visibly brightened. “Oh, ah, I made it to the top floor. Which, in hindsight, was probably the best place I could’ve been, considering…” Mike nodded gravely. “It just felt like the floor gave out at first, but it didn’t take long to figure out it was an earthquake. I ended up on my back covered in what was left of the roof but it could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.”

“Yeah, it sure could’ve.” A brief pause stilled the air, both of them staring into space for a beat, then Steve looked at the older man again. “You remember when we got there, to the warehouse? And that young woman was going in ahead of us. She had a baby in her arms and was pulling the little boy with her?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded, frowning slightly as he tried to recall details, “yeah, I do. She was blond, right?”

“Yeah. Well, I was just about to talk to her when it hit…” He paused and took a deep breath. He could see Mike’s eyes widen slightly in fearful anticipation. “When I got my wits about me, and realized I was still alive and in one piece, I went looking for them.” He turned his head slightly, staring at nothing, his eyes unfocusing. “They were buried under the rubble. The little boy was crying…. and I found him. He was scared and probably banged up a bit but I don’t think he was badly hurt…. This guy, Neil…” He looked at Mike again, a very slight smile curling his lips. “He was the black guard at the front door?” Mike nodded, his eyes riveted on the younger man. “He appeared out of nowhere,” Steve said softly, with a slight, almost amazed shrug and a smile. “Neil took the kid down to safety and I started to look for the mother…”

Mike’s hand tightened slightly on his forearm. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. “We found her, the mom… but she was,” he cleared his throat, “she was already gone…. She’d gotten hit…” he raised his right hand slightly, “she got hit in the head…” He cleared his throat, staring at the blanket over his legs. He inhaled slowly and deeply, feeling the hand on his arm tighten again.  
“And the baby?” Mike asked, his voice a whisper.

Steve’s eyebrows rose slowly, as if in surprise. “It was alive…” He snorted softly and looked up, meeting the sad blue eyes staring at him. “She’d managed to shield the baby with her body… and it was alive.” He shook his head and chuckled dryly. “I still don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl… but it was alive…”

For a brief second the fingers around Steve’s arm dug in sharply, almost painfully, then Mike smiled proudly. Unable to find his voice, he nodded, swallowing heavily. His eyes travelled slowly to Steve’s hand resting on the bed, and his brow furrowed a little deeper when he noticed the painful-looking cuts, scrapes and broken fingernails. “It looks like you did a lot of the rescuing yourself…” he nodded at the injured appendage. 

With a rueful, self-deprecating tilt of his head, Steve said quietly, “Well, there was a lot debris to dig through… a lot of people to find.” He looked up at the older man and smiled.

Mike’s eyes widened slightly and, before they went down that road, he asked quickly, “Did you find anybody else alive?”

Pausing, knowing what had just transpired, Steve nodded slowly. “Yeah…. Yeah, quite a few from the top floor, yeah. There was only the roof, mostly, from up there, if you were lucky enough to be away from the concrete walls. We pulled a lot of the kids out.” He paused, his eyes drifting away and he cleared his throat. “But the further down we went…” He shrugged helplessly, looking away and closing his eyes.

He felt the hand on his arm tighten once again. “Good for you.”

Steve snorted softly and looked up almost in embarrassment. “Well, good for me up to the point when Neil told me to stop and sent me down to the parking lot.”

“He did?”

Steve shrugged and bobbled his head. “Yeah… he thought I was overdoing it I guess… so he, unwittingly mind you, did his best impression of you.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Mike glared at him with a slight smirk, appreciating the attempt at lightening the mood. “He sounds like a very smart man. So how would you rate his performance?”

“Compared to you?” Laughing, Steve looked away and shook his head when Mike nodded, feigning solemnity. “On a scale of one to ten… I’d give him a nine point five.”

The older man snorted with a facial shrug, nodding. “That good, hunh? I gotta meet that guy.”

Steve stared at him affectionately. “You will, don’t worry. If I have anything to say about it, you will.” He chuckled. “You two’ll get along great.”

Mike’s eyes suddenly clouded and his grin disappeared. He dropped his head and cleared his throat softly. Steve frowned, wondering what he’d said wrong. He waited a long beat before asking, “You okay?”

His partner’s head snapped up with a ready smile. “Yeah, sure, of course.” 

Steve knew he was lying. He gave him another beat before asking. “So, ah, so what happened to you? How did you manage to walk away?”

Mike snorted mirthlessly, his stare turning inward. “Like you just… just lucky I guess.” He met the young man’s eyes. “I was as far from the door as you could get. I knew it was a ‘quake the second it started - I’ve lived through enough of them.” He shook his head in amazement. “I got about two steps and the ceiling started to come down.” He glanced at his left forearm. “That’s when this happened… and whatever it was clipped my head too. I was out for a bit but when I came to I was in this… bubble. Nothing landed on me,” he snorted in amazement as he stared into his partner’s concerned eyes.

“My legs were pinned down but not heavily. I could feel them and move my feet so I knew I was okay but I was stuck. And I couldn’t see a thing.” He stopped and looked down, swallowing heavily again. “I was scared to death,” he said quietly, “I kept expecting it to come down on me, especially when that aftershock hit.” He looked up and smiled. “But it never did.”

“Could you hear anything?” Steve asked quietly.

Mike pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not a thing… until the guy beside me moaned.” He smiled sadly as Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“The guy beside you?”

Mike nodded. “Umh-humh. I couldn’t see him, there was a wall of broken concrete and twisted steel between us but I could hear him…. He was in pain, a lot of pain.” He sighed sadly and looked down. “But I did manage to move some of the rubble and dug a little… tunnel, I guess you could call it, big enough to stick my right arm through… and hold his hand…” His voice cracked slightly and he paused, smiling wistfully.

Steve watched him, knowing there was more to come, a lot more. After all these years, he could read his partner like a book; from everything he could see in his partner’s demeanour right now, Mike’s ordeal had been as emotional as it had been physical.

Mike took his hand off the younger man’s arm and, out of habit, rubbed his fingers over his lips, his gaze unfocusing again. He took a deep breath. “He, ah, his name was Bobby. He was your age.” A smile wafted across his face again. “And he came from Merced…”

Steve froze, his heart starting to pound. “How, ah, how did he end up at the warehouse?”

Mike tilted his head, still looking down. “A lot of bad decisions he said.” He paused, exhaling softly through his open mouth. “His father flew B-52’s out of Castle, and they didn’t get along when Bobby was growing up. But he didn’t know what to do with his life… and he had a low draft number. So he went to Vietnam…” He inhaled deeply, a deep sadness in his voice and his face expressionless.

“It changed him over there, he said. He had to kill for his country, like a lot of us have had to do… but when he came home, he wasn’t met with a ticker-tape parade, he was spit on….” He shrugged as if to himself, running his right hand over his mouth again. “He told me he never went home, never went back to Merced. He came here instead. He couldn’t get a job and he got into drugs, and…” He exhaled loudly, his entire body heaving, and fell silent, his head down, his stare turned inward.

Steve watched him for several long seconds then, trying not to wince, pushed himself closer to the edge of the bed so he could reach out and touch his partner’s leg. Mike’s head came up and they stared at each other silently, a heart-breaking sorrow in the older man’s eyes. He swallowed heavily then drew in a deep and shuddering breath. “He didn’t make it… he died just before they got to us…”

Steve stared at him compassionately, gently rubbing his leg, sharing his grief.

After several long seconds, Mike smiled warmly, gratefully. “He was just a good kid that made some bad decisions, that’s all.” He snorted softly and his eyes got very bright. “And I couldn’t stop thinking… that if he’d taken a different path, he could’ve turned out like you.”

Steve clenched his teeth, hearing the blood pounding in his ears, as his vision blurred, his lips quivered and his hand tightened on his best friend’s le


	19. Chapter 19

They had sat quietly, Steve’s hand on his partner’s knee, for a long time, both of them reflecting on what they had just lived through, and what they both had been so incredibly fortunate to survive. There was no real guilt for either of them, just the melancholia that came with knowing that others had not been as lucky. 

Eventually Mike raised his head, looked at his young friend, and smiled affectionately. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” he said without preamble.

Steve’s brow furrowed and he snorted. “What?”

Mike shrugged with a tilt of his head. “I’m hungry.”

The younger man laughed, shaking his head. He knew what his partner was doing, steering them away from the painful memories, if only for brief while. It was something he was so good at, most people didn’t even notice when it happened. “So what do you want to do about it?”

“Well,” the craggy faced veteran said slowly, “I don’t want hospital food, do you?” He scrunched his face up and shuddered theatrically, and Steve chuckled. “How ‘bout a pizza?”

“Here? In the hospital?”

Mike shrugged. “Why not? They deliver, right? Why wouldn’t they deliver here?”

“Is that allowed?”

“How do I know? Why don’t we try it and find out?” He nodded at the phone on the bedside table. 

Steve frowned. “What? You think I have the number memorized?”

Mike grunted. “I’ll ask the nurses for a phone book.” He started to get slowly to his feet. 

“Find out if it’s allowed, while you’re at it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Mike started for the door.

“Ah, how are we going to pay for this?”

The older man turned back at the door. “What? You don’t have your wallet?”Frowning, Steve stared at him for a long beat then carefully reached out and opened the small drawer in the bedside table. His watch was wrapped around his wallet, sitting beside a small pile of change. When he looked back up, Mike was grinning, his hand on the door pull. With a chuckle, he opened the door and began to exit when he heard his name called and turned back, suspicious. Steve was looking at him through a narrowed eyes. “If I’m gonna pay for it, no Tony’s.”

“Oh, come on -“

“No!” Steve raised his right forefinger and stared uncompromisingly. “No Tony’s.”

Mike glared back for a long second then, with a ‘harrumph’, stepped into the corridor and let the door close behind him.

# # # # #

“I still can’t believe they let us do this,” Steve chuckled as he picked another slice of pie out of the box on the overbed table in front of him.

Nodding, Mike swallowed then laughed. “I think we’re the first. The head nurse looked very surprised when I asked her, and I’m pretty sure she was going to say no, but then she just stopped and thought about it. She told me nobody’s ever asked before - which I find surprising, by the way,” he shrugged, “and she said if I could find a place that would deliver, why not?” He laughed as he took another bite of the slice in his hand.

“Well, I gotta remember to thank her. Oh, and thank you too, for not ordering anchovies.”

“You know, I was half tempted, but then I remembered you were paying for it so…”

Steve chuckled. If felt good, if artificial, to have this respite, this small measure of normality, if only for a few minutes. Chewing, he looked at his partner. “So, have you given any thought to what you’re going to tell Jeannie?” he asked after he swallowed.

Mike hesitated before taking another bite, lowering the slice and raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. I’m sure there’s more than one message on my answering machine already.” He exhaled loudly and snorted. “I think I’m going to tell her the truth, up to a point. There’s no way I can hide this,” he glanced down at the cast, “so I’ll be honest about that. But I am not going to tell her about being trapped; she doesn’t need to know about that.” He lowered his head slightly and pinned the young man with an intimidating frown. “And I’m hoping she won’t find out from you, intentionally or not…”

Shaking his head, Steve snorted dryly. “She won’t, I swear. She’d stomp on me with both feet if I did, bone contusions or not.” They both chuckled. Steve raised the pizza slice to his mouth then paused. “What about the case?” He took a bite.

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. I’m gonna talk to Rudy about it. I know everybody’s swamped right now with what happened, even our guys. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t intend on sitting at home, twiddling my…” he paused and looked down at his left forearm then chuckled, “thumb, waiting for this to heal. If they let me out tomorrow, then I’m back in the office the day after, so I’m planning on picking up where we left off.”

Steve, who was watching expressionlessly, began to smile slightly. “I was hoping you were going to say that.”

“You think you’ll feel good enough to go back to work?”

“I’ll take it slow and easy.” He grinned wickedly. “But the thing about bone bruises, or so I’ve been told, is that you can’t see them, they’re not like, you know, real bruises, muscle bruises. So as long as I don’t whimper in pain, I think I got a chance.”

Mike was frowning worriedly, his pizza slice forgotten in his upraised hand.

“Relax,” Steve laughed, bringing his slice to his mouth again, “I promise you I won’t do anything I don’t think I can handle.” He went to take a bite then stopped, a soft smirk twisting his features. “What, you think I’m gonna just sit at home and let you have all the fun?” He ripped the pizza crust in half and popped a piece into his mouth.

Mike smiled affectionately, then took a bite of his own slice. They ate in silence for a bit, finishing the pie in companionable silence. “Well, I better get back to my room,” the older man growled with a melancholy sigh as he got slowly to his feet and started to gather up their garbage as best he could, dropping the used napkins in the garbage can and putting the empty pizza box and soda cans on the floor beside it.

He looked at the bed, raising his eyebrows with a tilt of his head. “Listen, ah, if they decide to let me out tomorrow I’ll drop in before I go. Hopefully they’ll let you out too.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

Mike pointed his right index finger at his partner and made a clicking sound as he winked, before crossing to the door. Just before he opened it, he heard Steve call his name again and he turned back. The younger man was looking at him sympathetically.

“You were meant to be there, you know,” Steve said softly. “With Bobby…. You were meant to be there, to hold his hand… so he wouldn’t be alone…”

Mike stared at him without moving, feeling his throat tighten and the blood pound in his ears. Then slowly, silently, he nodded, his lips curling in a soft, almost invisible smile of gratitude as he turned and left the room.

# # # # #

“Ow, that must’ve hurt!”

“It did. You try having a ceiling come down on you. I was lucky it was just my wrist.”

“And they had to put a pin in it?”

“Yeah, just a little one.”

“It’s permanent?”

“Umh-humh. It’s gonna be fun going through metal detectors from now on.” Mike chuckled as he leaned back in the recliner, stretching the phone cord to its limit. He had been released that morning and Rudy Olsen had picked him up and driven him home. 

He had visited Steve briefly before he left; the younger man was being kept in for one more day, his doctors more concerned about the laceration on his leg than the bone contusions. But he was scheduled for release tomorrow.

And he had been right; there were three messages from his daughter, each one progressively anxious.

“And you said Steve’s okay too?”

“Yeah, like I said, he’s bruised and banged up some but he’s fine. We’re both gonna take it easy for a couple of days but we were in the middle of a case and we’re gonna get back at it as soon as we can.”

He heard his daughter sigh over the line and he relaxed, knowing he had successfully quelled her fears, and not for the first time. 

“Is it an interesting case?”

“Interesting enough - look, ah, what’s going on with you?” He’d smoothly shifted her focus, slumping back into the comfy recliner, prepared to listen to her voice for as long as he could keep her talking. It was his concept of heaven.

# # # # #

“So they’re letting you out tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, thank god. Seems they’re happy with the way my leg is healing so….” Steve cleared his throat guiltily, “They, ah, they did tell me to take it easy and stay home for awhile…”

“How long is ‘awhile’?”

“Ah, a couple of weeks…” There was a curious mixture of anticipation and trepidation in his tone.

“And what did you tell them?” Mike asked facetiously as he stuck the receiver under his left ear, pinning it with his shoulder, and opened the fridge door, reaching in for a can of ginger ale.

The younger man cleared his throat again. “I, uh, I just nodded…”

“Good choice,” Mike chuckled as he put the can on the counter and closed the fridge door. “Listen, ah, I’ll wait till the day after to go in so we can do it together. How does that sound?”

Steve laughed knowingly. “You mean you’re gonna sit around your house and do nothing tomorrow? Come on, Lieutenant, I know you better than that.”

Chuckling louder, Mike trapped the can between his cast and his stomach and opened the tab. “I’ve got some phone calls to make, so I can keep myself busy, don’t you worry. Oh, speaking of calls, I talked to Jeannie this afternoon.”

“Oh good. What did you tell her?”

“The truth, sort of. I told her about my wrist and your bruises, but that’s it. So remember that, right, no slip of the lip when she gets home.”

Steve laughed again. “I promise, scout’s honor.”

“So who’s picking you up tomorrow?”

“Ah, Norm. He and Dan dropped by earlier. They were surprised to find you were gone already.”

“So listen, ah, why don’t you have him drop you off here, and you can stay here?”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that, but my place has fewer stairs… you know…?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, it was a thought.”

They both chuckled.

“So, ah, I’ll call you after I get home tomorrow and we can sketch out our plan of attack. How does that sound?”

“Yeah, we’ll be starting pretty well from scratch again, won’t we?” A long beat of silence settled over the line then Mike said quietly, “I don’t care how long it takes, Steve, I want to solve this one.”

“I hear ya,” the younger man said quietly, knowing the words now had more weight after what they had just been through. “So, listen, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay. Have a good night.”

“You too.” 

The line went dead and, after a beat, Mike crossed the kitchen to hang the receiver on the cradle. He stood immobile, lost in thought for a few seconds, then picked it up again and dialed a familiar number. “Bernie, it’s Mike…. Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Listen, I need you to do me a favour…”


	20. Chapter 20

Steve closed the door behind himself, then turned to look around his living room. It seemed a little cleaner than he remembered leaving it. Frowning, trying to figure out how that happened, he moved slowly deeper into the room, trying not to groan. He dropped the large paper bag containing the clothes he’d been wearing at the warehouse onto the coffee table.

He felt very stiff this morning, more than he was letting on, but the longer he stayed on his feet and moving, the better it got. They’d tried to foist a pair of wooden crutches on him when he left the hospital, wanting him to stay off his left leg so as not to aggravate the stitches. He’d taken them, even putting them in the back of the waiting LTD, but just after the car left the hospital entrance and turned onto the street, he’d made Haseejian stop and bring the crutches back to the entrance and leave them leaning against the wall just inside the door.

He could be just as stubborn as his partner.

Opting to stay on his feet, he picked up the receiver of the living room phone and dialed. The call was answered in the middle of the first ring.

“Yeah, what have you got?” came the short, sharp greeting.

“Well, good morning,” he chuckled, picking up the phone and starting to pace the room, not wanting to stop moving. 

“Oh, buddy boy,” Mike answered quickly with a dry snort, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.”

“Yeah, ah, did you get out? Are you home?”

“Yeah, yeah, Norm just dropped me off.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. I’m just going to take it easy for the rest of the day, maybe take a bath of epsom salts later.”

“Well, that couldn’t hurt. What about your leg?”

“I’ll just keep it out of the tub. So who were you expecting?”

“Oh, ah, Bernie. I left a message for him this morning about our John Doe Number Two’s autopsy and I thought that might be him getting back to me. They’re really swamped down there.”

“Yeah, I bet. You’re not going in, are you?”

“Today? No, I told you I’d wait till tomorrow so we can start again together.”

“Okay, good.”

“Ah, listen, I hate to cut this short but -“

“You’re waiting to hear from Bernie, yeah, I get it,” Steve cut in, chuckling. “I’ll give you a call later tonight, okay…?”

“Okay, thanks,” Mike said quickly and the line went dead.

Laughing, Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared at it. “Never change, Michael, never change,” he mumbled under his breath as he hung up.

# # # # #

Even though he was alone, he was trying desperately not to groan as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. ‘I’m rehearsing,’ he rolled the short phrase over and over in his mind, smiling to himself with a dry chuckle, knowing he had to perfect the image of normality by tomorrow when he showed up at the office. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fool his partner but the others, especially Captain Olsen, might not notice. Haseejian and Healey would be on high alert, but he was pretty sure he could swear them to secrecy if he played his cards right.

He almost didn’t hear the doorbell over the sound of the gushing water filling the bathtub. He paused, frowning, not sure if he heard it or not, then, shaking his head in mild annoyance, started to undo his belt. It rang again; this time he heard it.

Growling to himself, he charged into the bathroom as quickly as he could, turned off the faucet, then started for the stairs, mindful of the stitches in his calf, and half-hopped down the steps towards the door. He grabbed the knob and yanked it open, scowling, then froze. After a stunned second, his eyes widened in pleasure. “Oh… hi…”

The stunning brunette standing on the stoop was staring at him with a mixture of concern and relief. “So you are here,” Jennifer said pointedly as she pushed past him into the small apartment, eyeing his bare chest as she did so. As he closed the door behind her, she turned to him, frowning. “Where have you been for the past two days? I was worried about you. I left messages…” She gestured towards the answering machine on the endtable beside the phone and he glanced over, seeing the message number flashing.

He smiled self-consciously, realizing that in everything that had happened in the past few days, a lot of things had slipped his mind. He had just opened his mouth to respond when her eyes snapped to his forehead; he had removed the bandage but she could see the stitches under his tousled hair.  
“What happened to you?” she almost shouted in alarm as she took a step towards him and reached up to gently touch his forehead.

He recoiled slightly at her touch, then smiled in apology. “Ah, Mike and I got caught up in that earthquake -“

“Oh my god…”

“- and we had to spend a little time in the hospital…” he continued softly, trying to downplay the impact.

“What?” Jennifer took a step back, her eyes raking him up and down. “Are you okay?”

He started to nod rapidly, smiling. “I’ve got some bone bruises, and a cut on my leg,” he glanced down at his left calf and she did as well, “but I’m fine. Just a little stiff.”

“How’s Mike?”

“He’s okay. He broke his left wrist but it could’ve been a lot worse for both of us.” As she stared at him with a worried frown, his smile got a lot wider and he stepped closer, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her into him. He gently kissed her lips then pulled back slightly. “I’m sorry if I frightened you, I didn’t mean to.”

Staring at him enigmatically, she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “So what are you going to do to make it up to me?” she teased.

He smiled languidly, tightening his grip. “Well, I was just going to take a nice hot bath to soothe my aching bones…. Do you want to join me?”

She growled sexily, slipping her arms around him and squeezing carefully. “Well, that’s an offer I can’t turn down…”

# # # # #

He was sitting at the kitchen table, his reading glasses on, making notes on the pad of yellow foolscap in front of him. He’d had a busy afternoon, making calls, getting files dropped off, trying to get his head back into the game.

Against doctor’s orders he had discarded the sling hours ago, and the fingers of his left hand had almost returned to their normal size so he could use them again, much to his relief. He had talked to the coroner’s office more than once, getting an update on John Doe Number Two’s autopsy, not yet completed, and the status of the investigations into the victims of the warehouse collapse. He knew it would take the M.E.’s office days if not weeks to identify the bodies pulled from the rubble, and there was the distinct chance that not all of them would be identified and would eventually be interred in Potter’s Field.

He exhaled loudly and rolled his shoulders, wincing as he tried to work the kinks out of his stiff back. He knew he had to get up and move around. He took the glasses off and tossed them on the table then looked up. The kitchen was dark, lit only by the waning sunlight coming through the small window over the sink and the glass pane in the back door. He glanced at the clock on the back of the stove. 8:45.

“Good lord,” he mumbled to himself. He hadn’t wanted, or expected, to work that long; he had worked right through dinner. He crossed to the entrance and snapped the overhead light on then moved to the fridge and opened it. Finding nothing that interested him, he shut the door and opened the cupboard over the counter. Frustrated, he was about to close that as well when he heard his wife’s voice in his ear, telling him, as she had so many times over the years, that he had to eat properly if he wanted to do his job to the best of his ability.

With a snort and a chuckle, he reached for a can of chicken noodle soup, knowing it would be good for him but also knowing he was going to have to wrestle with the can opener again. And this time the can opener would definitely have the advantage.

# # # # #

Mike, having run the gauntlet of ‘welcome back’s’ on his arrival, was ensconced behind his desk when Steve walked slowly into the bullpen early the next morning. He watched his partner’s slow progress towards the small inner office with amusement, as colleagues intercepted the young inspector to inquire as to his health and laud his quick return.

When Steve eventually got to the office door, he grinned and leaned against the frame. “Why am I not surprised you beat me in?”

Mike, who had been pretending to read, looked up over his glasses with an affectionate smirk. “You were expecting otherwise?” He took off his glasses and looked the younger man up and down, his scrutiny finally stopping on the tiny, self-satisfied smile on Steve’s lips that told him more than words could ever convey. “You, ah, you’re looking rather pleased with yourself his morning. Something I should know?”

Steve frowned suddenly, as if not realizing his face was betraying him. “What? No…. Why?”

Chuckling to himself, Mike looked back down at the file he was reading, picking up his glasses and putting them back on. “You look like the cat that ate the canary. Am I to take it you had a good time at home last night… by yourself…?”

Clearing his throat self-consciously, once more flabbergasted that his partner could read him like a book, Steve pushed himself away from the frame, looked over his shoulder guiltily and shut the door before he sat in the guest chair, trying not to wince and moan.

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Mike asked matter-of-factly as he glanced up, feigning disinterest.

“Better than I should be,” Steve said with a smug smile, leaning back as casually as he could and crossing his legs, patting his tie down. Turned out it hurt more than he was expecting it to and he slowly uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, briefly holding his breath. He tilted his head with a frustrated sigh. “Well, maybe not…”

Mike smiled. “It’s only Day Two - give it some time.”

Steve gestured at his partner’s left forearm. “I see you’ve ditched the sling.”

“It was getting in my way. Listen, ah, there’s a lot to get you caught up on. Some stuff came in while we were… otherwise engaged. You ready to get back to work?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Steve smiled, getting up slowly and carefully. “Just let me lose my jacket and get a coffee.” As he opened the office door he almost bumped into Haseejian, who smiled at him warmly before stepping into the office. Mike looked up expectantly. 

The sergeant had his notebook in his hand. “Got a minute?”

“Of course.” The lieutenant gestured at the guest chair.

Haseejian dropped into it with a heavy sigh and a soft smile. “I, ah, I got some information for you on Bobby.”

Mike froze momentarily, then dropped the pen in his hand on the desk and took off his glasses. He nodded but didn’t say anything.

“He was from Merced, like he said, and he was a veteran. In Hue, like you were told. So I got in touch with the Army and told them what happened and they told me they are going to look into it. They just got back to me.” He looked down at the notebook and swallowed heavily. “His name was Robert Alan Thornton. He was thirty-one years old. He won a Bronze Star and he was honorably discharged.” He looked up; Mike was sitting perfectly still, looking down. “They’re, ah, they’re going to get in touch with his family and arrange a military funeral.   
And they’ll get back to me with the details.”


	21. Chapter 21

Steve and Haseejian’s paths crossed again as the sergeant left the small office and the inspector returned, jacket-less and carrying a cup of coffee. Mike was leaning over the desk, his head down, seemingly studying the file in front of him.

Without a word, Steve sat gingerly in the guest hair and put the mug on the desk, not taking his eyes off his partner. When there was no reaction, he cleared his throat. Mike’s head came up, his brows knit.

“Everything okay?” Steve asked quietly. 

Mike nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve, ah, I’ve asked Norm to find out what he can about, ah, about Bobby…” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged with a small self-deprecatingly smile.

Nodding softly, the younger man asked, “So… did he find anything?”

“Ah, yeah, his full name, and the fact he won a Bronze Star…. The, ah, the army is going to arrange for a military funeral.”

Steve smiled warmly. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, I hope so…. I hope his family will allow it. You never know, right?”

“Yeah.” Mike was looking down at the papers on his desk again and Steve let the silence linger for a bit before he picked up his cup and raised his voice slightly. “So, ah, so what’s the new stuff you have to tell me about the case?”

The older man’s head snapped up and he stared expressionlessly for a long second, then he smiled and nodded, knowing what his young friend was trying to do. “Right, back to work,” he said with a slight grin and a nod, slapping the desk with his right hand, before starting to rifle through the files and papers. “Okay, so, Bernie’s not finished with the autopsy on JD#2 yet - they’re backed up, like I said, but I asked Rudy if he could gently put some pressure on him and he said he would so…” He shrugged again, this time with a grin. “And I’ve put an order in for more copies of those photos we had of both our JD’s, seeing as we both lost ours… you know…. I mean, I lost mine, I’m assuming you lost yours?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve nodded, suddenly propelled back to that moment on the third floor. His eyes glazed over. Mike, who had been looking down, glanced up and froze, frowning. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

The younger man shook his head slightly. “Yeah, yeah…”

Mike watched him silently for a beat. “Have you found out about those kids yet?”

Steve looked down at the cup in his hand and shook his head. “I called Children’s Services yesterday but they said they couldn’t give out that kind of information over the phone to just anybody, and I couldn’t prove that I actually was a police officer so…?” He shrugged. “I was hoping in the next day or so we could grab a minute and drop in… maybe once they see my badge, and yours, they’ll be a little more forthcoming.”

With a soft smile, Mike nodded. “Why don’t we do that after we finish up here? I kinda have a feeling the day’s not going to be as long as we thought when we started.” When Steve frowned, his smile widened. “Look, both of us aren’t really up for this, and you know that as well as I do. However neither of us wants to spend any more time sitting at home when we have so much to do, right? But I also don’t want us to rush out of the gate full speed and not have anything left when we get closer to the finish line.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been spending time at Golden Gate Fields lately that I don’t know about?”

Mike smirked. “Ha ha… but you know what I mean. So let’s just get caught up on all the new material then, depending on what time that turns out to be, we either go for lunch or to CS. How does that sound?”

They went through everything they’d already accumulated before the interruption, which wasn’t much, they had to admit. The few things that had come in since then were interesting but didn’t add anything concrete. The fingerprint match had yielded nothing, except the fact that neither John Doe had a police record, at least not in San Francisco. They decided to send the prints to the surrounding police departments but neither held out much hope that it would amount to anything.

So far they had not heard from any of the PD’s previously contacted about any similar murders, but that kind of inquiry would take time and, depending on how busy the departments were or, more importantly, if the request was deemed a priority or not, it could take weeks or months.

One of the calls Mike had made to Bernie in the past day and a half had been the request for photos of all the victims of the warehouse collapse. He had also asked Captain Olsen if a team of detectives, from Missing Persons he surmised, could be assigned the task of identifying and photographing all the survivors of the collapse, whether still hospitalized or released. There was a chance their ‘red-haired woman’ had survived and they could still track her down, if luck was on their side for a change.

It was almost one o’clock by the time they finished getting back up to speed. Uncharacteristically, Mike stifled a yawn as he looked at his partner sheepishly. “Sorry, I just hit a wall.”

Steve snorted dryly. “I think I tripped over it about a half-hour ago. I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

With a warm smile, Mike closed the file in front of him and pushed his chair back. “Then let’s get out of here. Why don’t we grab a quick lunch and head over to Children’s Services and see what we can get from them then go home and crash. How does that sound?”

“Works for me, Lieutenant, works for me.”

# # # # #

They were shuttled from bureaucrat to bureaucrat at the CS; Mike’s rank didn’t seem to impress anybody. Finally a man with more than a passing resemblance to Peter Lorre, a quirk that Mike found very funny for some reason, told them to wait while he looked into it.

They were sitting on a bench in a hallway. Mike had his head back against the wall, his eyes closed under the forward tip of his hat, cradling his cast covered left arm in his right. Steve kept shifting position, trying, unsuccessfully it seemed, to find the most comfortable one on the unforgiving wooden seat. The allure of another epsom salt bath, this time solo, was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. He looked at his watch. 3:45. He sighed; the promised short day was becoming more and more of a pipe dream.

Mike opened his eyes and they slid in his partner’s direction. “You want to leave and come back tomorrow?”

Steve shook his head quickly. “No. No, I do not want to have to go through this again.” He frowned and sat up slightly, meeting Mike’s benevolent stare. “Why? Do you want to leave?”

His head still against the wall, he shook it slightly. “No, no, no,” he assured slowly, “I’m comfortable. You, on the other hand, seem to be having trouble sitting still.”

The younger man snorted. “I’m starting to stiffen up.” He tried to stretch his back out again and winced.

“So the, ah, the extra-curricular activities in the bath last night… didn’t really help?” He had closed his eyes again, a soft smile curling his lips as he swallowed a chuckle. He could feel the narrowed green eyes boring a hole into the side of his head. There was a long beat of silence as he continued to shake slightly with suppressed laughter. “What? You’re surprised that I figured it out? When you come in looking like Pepe Le Pew in love, what other conclusion can I come to?”

There was another short silence. “Pepe Le Pew?” Eyes closed, Mike nodded. “A skunk?”

“I calls ‘em as I sees ‘em.”

Taking a deep breath and trying not to wince, Steve pulled himself into a more upright position, turning to face his partner to riposte when suddenly ‘Peter Lorre’ appeared in front of them, pointedly clearing his throat. Steve’s head swivelled and Mike opened his eyes.

“Inspector Keller?” the bureaucrat asked, his eyes sliding from the fedora-clad older man to the younger one trying to stand quickly with some obvious difficulty.

“Ah, yes, Mr., ah… Guthrie,” Steve smiled, groping for the name, and he could hear Mike’s soft snort behind him.

Guthrie, with a slight nod, smiled coldly. “Yes, I have gone over our files and as of this point, I see no records of our having taken custody of either of the two children you described. Now, mind you, the earthquake has increased our caseload tenfold, at least, and their records may not have been filed as yet, but there is also the chance that they were not brought to our attention, and our care, in the first place.” Thought his tone and demeanour seemed clipped and coldly professional, there was a sense of genuine concern in his attitude. 

Steve felt Mike sit forward, on alert. “Are you talking about the Catholic Charities?”

Guthrie’s attention turned to the lieutenant and he nodded. “I will keep checking our records but in the meantime, I think you might be wise to contact them as well.”

As Mike got to his feet, Steve held his right hand out. “Thank you, Mr. Guthrie. I appreciate your suggestion, and your hard work.”

Shaking the outstretched hand, the bureaucrat nodded. “My pleasure, Inspector.” He looked at Mike and shook his hand as well before turning on his heel and heading down the corridor, a man with a very tough job that never seemed to end.

Mike looked at his partner. “You want to head over there now, to the Catholic Charities?”

Steve studied his partner. He could see the exhaustion and discomfort behind the warm stare and as much as he wanted to pursue this new line of inquiry, he was well aware that he was pushing his own physical limits as well. And Mike’s words about leaving something in the tank, figuratively speaking, drifted through his mind again.

“Naw, I think we’re done for the day… at least I am.” He reached up and patted his partner’s arm. 

Mike smiled warmly. “Yeah, me too.” They started slowly down the corridor towards the main entrance.

“We can follow up on that tomorrow. Besides, if the kids are with the Catholic Charities, they’re in good hands, right?”

Mike chuckled. “The best.”

# # # # #

He was slouching on the couch, his feet on the coffee table, a large mug of tea with honey cradled in both hands in his lap. He had taken another soak in epsom salts and it had seemed to help, though he was well aware it was a remedy for sore muscles and his bruises were much deeper. Still, it acted much like a placebo - if he believed it helped, then it did.

He tried to sleep earlier but couldn’t turn his mind off. He kept reliving those first few minutes after the quake hit, those frantic moments when he realized he had survived but knew that so many others would not have been so fortunate.

Those kids…. He couldn’t get them out of his mind, becoming more and more convinced that it was more than just lucky happenstance that he had been in the right place at the right time.

He had found them once, and he would find them again.

# # # # #

The phone rang and he jumped, startled. He looked around, confused, for a split second not realizing he was in the recliner in his own living room. The second ring focused him quickly and he grabbed for the receiver.

“Yeah?” It was more a growl than a greeting.

“Mike?”

He knew instantly it wasn’t Steve. “Yeah, who’s this?”

“Ah, it’s Bernie. Ah, sorry to call you at home so late but I thought you’d want to know.”

Mike had picked up his watch, which had been lying on the endtable beside the phone, and squinted at the dial. 8:47. “Ah, no, Bernie, it’s fine. Ah, what have you got?”

“Well, it, ah, it looks like we got another one.”

There was a brief pause. “Another John Doe?”

“Yep, I’m afraid so. This one is from six months ago. I had one of my guys go back further than you asked, on a hunch.”

“Six months?”

“Umh-humh. I’m having him go back further, a year, maybe more, depending on what we find out.”

“Good idea.”

“I, ah, I thought you’d like to know.”

Mike was staring into space, processing the news. “Yeah, thanks, Bernie. Ah, Steve and I’ll drop by first thing tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.” The line went dead.

With a heavy sigh, Mike hung up the receiver. He didn’t know if he would get back to sleep that night.


	22. Chapter 22

Mike opened the passenger side door and slid in silently. Frowning, Steve glanced over as he shifted into Drive and pulled the tan LTD away from the curb, expecting the usual cheery ‘Good morning!’ or similar salutation. He knew things were serious when that didn’t happen. 

“So,” he began slowly as the sedan headed north on De Haro, “everything okay? Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh, ah, sorry, buddy boy,” Mike took a deep breath and looked across the front seat with an apologetic smile, “I didn’t get much sleep last night, couldn’t turn my brain off.”

“About the case?” the younger man asked tentatively, assuming it was probably related to those harrowing hours Mike had spent trapped in the ruins of the warehouse but not wanting to go there right away in case it wasn’t. 

“Ah, yeah,” Mike confirmed, sounding slightly surprised himself. “I got a call from Bernie last night. We’ve got another one.”

“Another John Doe?” The unmarked police car turned the corner.

“Yeah, from six months ago.”

“Six months?”

“That’s exactly what I said, and how I said it,” Mike chuckled dryly. “We’re gonna go see him as soon as we get in. And he’s getting his people to go back even further, at least a year.” 

“Well, if it fits, that means whoever’s doing this has been at it a lot longer than we thought.”

“Yeah…. Look, ah, I was thinking about that ‘red-haired woman’ our John Doe #1 was seen with…. I’m gonna push Bernie about those morgue photos I asked for and see where Missing Persons is on identifications. I don’t want to wait any longer. If these murders are connected, then we have a real problem on our hands and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

He looked across the front seat with a small, rueful smile under a furrowed brow. “I know neither of us is firing on all cylinders right now, but I want to shift into second gear. Are you up for it?”

The smile was only slightly slow to build and the younger man nodded. “Why not? I’ve got plenty of epsom salts.”

Mike chuckled. “Good.” He looked back through the windshield; it was a nice, warm late summer day. “Look, ah, Jeannie’s coming home from St. Louis next week for a few days before she has to head back to college, and I’d like to take them off, so if we could get a really good head of steam going before that happens, then I won’t feel so bad leaving you to handle everything yourself for a couple of days. Is, ah, is that okay with you?”

Steve was now grinning widely. “Are you kidding? Of course it is, as long as you have me over for dinner a night or two while she’s home.” They were on Bryant, approaching the Hall.

“Thanks, and you bet.” Mike chuckled then took a deep breath. “Listen, ah, I’d like to go visit those fellas under the Bridge again. See if our first visit tweaked something, you know… talk to that guy that told you about the ‘red-haired woman’. What was his name?”

“Daryl Tyler,” Steve responded immediately, and Mike smiled, proud that his former protege, now full partner in every respect, recalled the name so easily.

“Yeah, I’d like you to talk to him again… and I also want you to try and track down that fella that was helping you at the warehouse. I have a feeling he could really be a big help in all this. Neil something, wasn’t it?”

Steve turned the LTD into an open parking space, shifted into Park and turned the engine off.  
“Yeah. Norm said he has his ‘bona fides’ but if Neil’s on the street that’s not gonna help. But maybe Daryl will know where he is.”

“Good. So that means a late night. So why don’t we conflab with Bernie, make a trip over to the Catholic Charities,” he smiled knowingly at the younger man, “then take the afternoon off to grab a couple of hours sleep - and I could use that, let me tell you - then meet up just before the sun goes down and head over to the Bridge again.” 

Nodding sagely, Steve took the key out of the ignition and opened the door. “Sounds like a full day, Lieutenant,” he chuckled as he got out.

They were heading across the parking lot to the side door when Mike tried to stifle a huge yawn. Steve looked at him sideways with a laugh and a smirk. “Do you think you’re going to make it till lunch?”

Mike shook his head sharply to wake himself up and turned soulful eyes on his partner. “I’ll let you know…”

# # # # #

The coroner’s report from six months ago was a perfect match to the two they already had on their plates. With Bernie’s assurances that his staff was looking for others, and that a portfolio of photos of the victims of the warehouse collapse was almost complete and would be delivered up to Homicide sometime that afternoon, the detectives made their way to the bank of elevators.

As they waited for a car to arrive, Steve glanced over at Mike, glasses on, who was studying the thin report with pursed lips and a frown. “What are you thinking?”

The older man looked up, eyebrows raised. “Oh, ah, nothing really,” he snorted softly as he closed the file and stuck it under his left arm before taking his glasses off. “It was Flynn and Grabowski’s case but they obviously didn’t get anywhere… which is not surprising. Before we do anything else, I want to talk to them.”

“Still think it’s a man and a woman?”

There was a ding then the sliding doors on their left opened onto an empty car; they got in and Steve pushed the button. Mike leaned against the back of the car, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I do.” He started suddenly. “Hey, don’t you have to go see your doctor again about your leg?”

Steve, who had been successfully masking his mild discomfort, or so he thought, smiled with a slight shrug. “Tomorrow.”

“Good,” Mike grunted. “I don’t want you to miss that. It’s nothing to fool around with, a cut that big.”

The elevator stopped on the main floor and more people got in; Steve moved to stand beside his partner. “How’s the wrist feeling?”

Mike raised his left forearm slightly, as if to emphasize what he was about to say. “It feels great. Like normal. If I didn’t know better, I’d just take the cast off and be done with it,” he chuckled softly, keeping his voice low in the crowded elevator car.

Steve frowned suddenly. “You’re not -?“

“No no no,” the older man assured quickly with a snort, “I’m not that dumb… or impatient. I’m just saying it feels great, that’s all.”

“Good,” Steve grunted, punctuating the word with a sharp nod. 

Chuckling, Mike led them off the elevator when the doors opened on the fourth floor. 

# # # # #

They managed to snag Grabowski and Flynn before they’d left the office, pursuing leads in the case of a bodega owner shot while protecting his shop from looting after the earthquake. The inspectors had nothing to add to what Mike and Steve had already surmised - that the murdered, unidentified homeless man had no previous record that they could find and that they had so little to go on, literally nothing, the case went cold very fast.

After they left, Steve closed the small office door before turning and sitting slowly in the guest chair. Mike was leaning on his right elbow over his desk, running his index finger across his lips, deep in thought. Steve gave him a beat before asking, “What are you thinking?”

The older man sighed before raising his head and dropping his hand. “You asked me in the elevator if I still thought it was a man and a woman, right?”

“Umh-humh.”

“And I do… but now I’m thinking something else too.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Doesn’t it strike you as odd that not one of our three John Does has a record? I mean, you know as well as I do that most of the street people we’ve dealt with, especially ones with a few years on them, like these guys had, have been pulled in at one time or the other for drugs or vagrancy or trespass… assault…. Something, right?”

Steve nodded.

“So why don’t these guys have records?” Mike shrugged.

The younger man snorted. “They were careful… or lucky…?”

“Or they were from out of town…” Mike offered softly, watching his young partner closely. 

Steve frowned, thinking, then started to nod slowly. “So you’re thinking they were targeted…?”

Mike shrugged again. “Maybe…”

“But why…?”

The older man laughed. “Like I’ve said before, if I knew that I’d know everything. Look, I know we have inquiries out to the PD’s in a hundred mile radius about a fingerprint match, but I want to expand it. The whole state and beyond.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “Okay…. That’s gonna take awhile, just to get the inquires out there, let alone get the results.”

“I know, I know, that’s why the sooner we start…”

“I thought we were gonna take it easy today and head to the Bridge tonight?  
“We are, don’t worry. It’s still early. So I tell you what we’re going to do. I’ll start to work on getting those fingerprints out, including our new guy, and I’ll get Sekulovich to give me a hand, and you get your aching bones over to the Catholic Charities and find out about those kids. Then you get yourself home and get some rest and we’ll meet back here at 7. How does that sound?”

“Are you going to go home too?”

Mike raised his right hand and smiled. “I will, scout’s honor. As soon as I get Art set up and tell him what I need, I’ll head home, I promise.”

Steve got up slowly. “Okay, that sounds good to me.” As he opened the door, Mike stopped him.

“Hey, ah, good luck with the CC - and let me know if you find out anything, okay?”

“Will do.”

# # # # #

There was a lot less bureaucracy at the Catholic Charities and his inquiry was met with the appropriate amount of concern, which was a relief. But when the sister returned with no information about a pair of children rescued from the warehouse collapse, he began to worry. 

“Are you sure?” he asked the older woman, who looked like she’d stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting of Catholic nuns, growing increasingly worried. “I mean, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to doubt you -“

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she chuckled graciously, holding out the stack of papers she held in one hand. “Here, you can go through these yourself.”

With a grateful nod, he took the forms, his eyes quickly scanning the top sheet, then he froze and his eyes unfocused. “Oh my god,” he said quickly, obviously forgetting where he was, “I just realized - they might not’ve come in as a pair, as brother and - god, I don’t even know if the baby was a boy or a girl.”

“Excuse me…?” the nun asked softly, trying to follow his rapid train of thought, staring at him through gold wire-rimmed glasses with a soft but confused smile.

His green eyes snapped to her face. “Sorry… ah, at the warehouse, they were found separately, at least several minutes apart, and I’m sure if no one was aware they were… siblings…”

“And you said you’re not sure if the baby was a boy or a girl?”

He shook his head, frowning. “No, I don’t.”

“What was the baby wearing, do you remember?”

He shook his head again, the frown deepening. “Maybe… maybe a white, a dirty white t-shirt…? I really don’t remember…”

“That’s okay,” she smile encouragingly as she took the papers out of his hand. “Why don’t we have a seat right here,” she indicated a nearby empty bench, “and we’ll go through these together and see if we have records of the children individually.”

His heart starting to pound, this time with promise, he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, let’s do that.”


	23. Chapter 23

It was shortly after 6 when Mike walked back into Homicide. He could’ve stayed home longer but he’d already had a long nap and dinner, and he knew the coroner’s office was going to drop off the photos of the warehouse victims.

He hung his fedora and topcoat on the rack, eyeing a large interoffice envelope in the centre of his desk, a note paperclipped to the top. He closed the door then crossed slowly around the desk, part of him anxious to go through the photos in the hopes they could locate their ‘red-haired woman’ and part of him worried about what else he would see.

He sat, slowly and methodically taking out his glasses and putting them before he read the note. It was from Bernie, explaining that this was all the photos but that not every body had been identified. The information for those who were was written on the back of their photo.

Taking a deep breath, he lifted the top of the large envelop awkwardly with his left fingers and unwrapped the string-and-button enclosure with his right hand then reached in and slid the thick pile of 5x7 colour photos out onto the desk. He stacked them neatly then, inhaling deeply and releasing it slowly through his slightly open mouth, he stared at the top picture.

It was an older man he didn’t recognize and there was no information on the back. He worked his way slowly through the pile, his throat tightening when the photo of a child or young person appeared, several unidentified, or a picture of someone he had briefly noticed when they had arrived at the warehouse. The young blond man guarding the entrance was one of the first pictures he saw, his name and age on the back. He was only 23.

He lifted the picture of an elderly woman and Bobby Thornton’s face was revealed. Mike froze, his hand shaking. As he had when his body was still trapped in the rubble, the young man looked almost serene, and Mike didn’t know if he felt troubled by that, or relieved. He turned the photo over, gratified to see Bobby’s name, age and next of kind listed.

Nodding slowly to himself, he set the photo aside and reached for the next one. It was a middle-aged woman with long, curly, bright-red hair. Frowning, he leaned over the photo and studied it before turning it over. There was nothing on the back. He set that one aside too.

Two photos later, he caught his breath. An older man with wild grey hair, his forehead concave and his left eye socket stitched closed, was looking blindly up at him as if from another dimension. It was ‘Uncle Joe’, and for a split second a wave of grief washed over him and he closed his eyes; they had been just a few feet apart when the ‘quake hit.

After several deep breaths, trying to get his pounding heart to slow but with his hand still shaking, he finished going through the pile, all that was left, it seemed, of so many llves.

# # # # #

“So what happened at the Catholic Charities?” Mike asked before Steve even got to his office door. “Any luck?”

It was just before seven, and the younger man was wearing layers to protect himself from the very chilly late August night; Mike dressed that way all the time.

Steve slumped into the guest chair, suppressing a groan. The bruises didn’t seem to be getting any better. “Well, sort of.” He told Mike about the original negative report, then of his speculation that maybe the kids had been separated because no one knew they were related.

“So we went through the reports and I found five that could be possible, three small boys of indeterminate age but around three, and two babies, one boy and one girl. They didn’t have photos of the kids and they are all in foster care. So she’s arranging to have Polaroids taken of them all by tomorrow so I’m going to drop in again and see if I can recognize them and hopefully they can be brought back together.”

Mike’s smile was getting wider the longer the younger man spoke, a blend of pride and affection. “Well, that’s, ah, that’s great news.” He sobered, looking down at the desk and picking up a fairly thick manila file folder. “Listen, ah, the coroner’s office has put together photos of all the fatalities from the warehouse. Most of them don’t have names yet but…” With a sad facial shrug, he tossed the folder lightly on the other side of the desk. “I thought you might be able to identify the mother. It would go a long way towards maybe finding a next of kin for those kids.”

Steve’s eyes were on the folder but he didn’t reach for it right away. He swallowed heavily as he leaned forward. “Have you looked at them?” he asked quietly.

Mike nodded, his face unreadable. “I, ah, I took out all the photos of kids, you don’t need to see those. And, ah, the one of Bobby. There’s a couple of others…” He picked up the picture of Bert Redfield and held it across the desk. “‘Uncle Joe’ didn’t make it,” he said sadly as Steve took the photo and stared at it. After a couple of seconds, he picked up another photo that was face down on the desk. “And I found this one.” It was the shot of the red-haired woman. 

Steve, who tore his eyes from the Redfield photo, looked at the new one and his brow furrowed. He looked up at his partner. “That could be her.”

“That’s what I was thinking. If we can find your Daryl Tyler tonight, we might be able to get an I.D.”

“Maybe.”

“And if this isn’t her, a couple of the guys from Missing Persons are working on getting us photos of everybody that was hospitalized after the collapse as well, so that might help. Everybody else’ll be back on the street.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked down at the envelope on the desk then picked it up slowly. 

“Listen, ah, you don’t have to do this right now,” Mike indicated with his chin. “You can wait till tomorrow if you want.”

“What time do you want to leave for the Bridge?”

Mike glanced at his watch, groaning in frustration when he realized once again it was on his right wrist for the time being. “Well, they don’t have a curfew like the warehouse did so we have some wiggle room. Why don’t you go through those now, and I’ll make us a fresh cup of coffee.”

Nodding slowly, Steve kept his eyes on the folder while Mike got up and stepped out of the office.

# # # # #

The older man stood at the coffee station, waiting for the brewing cycle to end, and watching his partner sort through the stack of photos. He knew Steve was experiencing the same emotions he felt when he did it. Suddenly he saw the younger man freeze, staring at one of the pictures. After a second, he took a step closer to the open door. “Is that her?” he asked softly. 

“Yeah,” Steve said breathlessly, “yeah, that’s her.”

“Turn it over,” Mike instructed and his partner did; there was nothing on the back. “She hasn’t been identified yet,” he explained and Steve nodded.

“Okay…”

“Bernie said the lab boys are going through all the debris, looking for I.D.’s, driver’s licenses, possibly mail, stuff like that. They may get lucky.”

Steve set the photo aside. “I hope so. Otherwise those kids’ll be put up for adoption.”

“Yeah…” Mike poured two cups of coffee and brought them into the office, putting one on the desk in front of his partner. Steve picked up the cup and sat back, cradling it in both hands, staring at nothing. When he eventually took the first sip, Mike picked up another photo he had face down on the desk, turned it over and placed it in front of his partner. 

Steve sat forward and stared at it then looked up. “Bobby?”

Mike nodded, closing his eyes briefly. 

Looking at the photo again, Steve smiled wistfully. “I still say you were meant to be there with him…”

Looking down, Mike paused then took a deep breath. After a long silent second, he raised his head and met the green eyes evenly, then he smiled. “Let’s finish these coffees and get outa here. The sooner we finish tonight, the sooner we can go home again.”

Steve’s smile grew a little bigger and he nodded.

# # # # #

“Geez, never ‘spected to see you two again,” ‘Ponytail’ growled in surprise when the detectives slowly approached the barrel fire. “When I heard about the warehouse goin’ down, I thought for sure you two’d been in it.”

Mike was grinning, pleased that they been recognized so quickly, hoping it would make what they had to do that evening go a lot smoother. He snorted ruefully with a nod when he got close enough to talk without shouting. “We were.”

“No shit,” someone else in the group spat out, “and you’re walkin’ around?” It was half rhetorical, half genuine inquiry.

“In a manner of speaking,” Mike shrugged, holding up the cast on his left forearm and nodding at Steve, who, it was obvious to everyone, was not walking with his normal flowing ease.

The man in the priest’s cassock took a step out of the shadows and looked Steve up and down, his expression fierce. There was a tense second when the young inspector glared back but then the ‘man of the cloth’ started to nod his head approvingly. “I heard about you,” he said, his voice little more than a snarl. “I heard you were there all night, pulling people out…” He stared at Steve’s neutral expression. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

After a beat, the inspector nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah…” he said simply. 

The ‘priest’ took a step back without another word.

‘Ponytail’ pointed his chin at Mike’s cast. “What happened to you?”

The lieutenant flashed a quick smile. “The ceiling fell down. Listen, fellas,” he continued quickly, desperately wanting to change the subject, “we need some help. We want to locate a couple of people, and show you guys another picture. Is that okay with everyone?”

He tried to make eye contact with everyone nearby, which was difficult, the only light the glow from the fire in the barrel.

“Is this still about them murders?” someone asked and Mike nodded. 

He saw a number of heads bob, including ‘Ponytail’s’, and he started to reach into his inside topcoat pocket with a pleased, “Good.”

“So, ah, so who is it you want to talk to?” ‘Ponytail’ asked.

“There was a guy I talked to last time we were here,” Steve offered, “thought he’d seen one of the John Does we’re looking for. Daryl Tyler?”

One of the men in the back piped up. “He’s here. I saw him awhile ago.” He nodded towards the Bay with his head. “I think he’s down closer to the water.”

Steve nodded his thanks then continued. “The other guy’s named Neil. He’s black, about five-ten. About forty-five, fifty. Keeps himself in good shape. He was one of the guards at the warehouse.”

A large man of indeterminate age and a large girth, with wild matted hair, took a step forward. “I know him,” he grunted, “but he ain’t here. He’d never come here.”

“Oh, why not?” Mike asked, taking a step closer.

“Ain’t none of the people from the warehouse’ll come here,” ‘Ponytail’ answered with a shrug. “They think it’s too dangerous down here.”

Mike had looked over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the area under the Bridge. “Yeah, I was wondering why there weren’t more people here than the other night, considering what happened.” He turned back to ‘Ponytail’. “Where do you think they’ve gone?”

The grey-haired older man shrugged. “Not sure. But there’s a bunch of abandoned houses in The City, a lot more than people are aware of, ya know. At least, they look abandoned, if ya know know what mean…”

There was something in his tone that sent shivers down the backs of the two detectives.


	24. Chapter 24

Steve took a step closer to his partner and took the picture of the red-haired woman out of his hand, nodding over his shoulder towards the water. “I’ll go look for Daryl Tyler.”

“Okay,” the older man nodded. “Watch your step.” 

The inspector flashed a smile, well aware of the double meaning in the caution. As he turned away, the man in the priest’s cassock fell into step beside him. When Steve looked at him with a curious frown, he growled, “Looks like yer not too steady on yer feet… and I know where he’s at.” 

Unable to resist another quick smile, the cop nodded. “Thanks, I appreciate the help.”

The other man nodded, staring straight ahead. They had taken a few steps over the uneven ground when he barked, “Name’s Douglas.”

Steve glanced at him in surprise. “Ah, I’m Steve.”

Douglas grunted and kept walking. The younger man stared at him with a soft wry smile as he felt into step behind him, following in his footsteps.

# # # # #

Mike watched them go, frowning in concern, then turned back to the small group gathered around him. He fished his notebook and pen out of the topcoat pocket and flipped the book open, then positioned himself closer to the fire so he had enough light do make notes.

“So,” he addressed the cluster, “can any of you guys tell me where some of these abandoned houses are located?”

# # # # #

Steve followed Douglas deeper into the gloom; the sound of water lapping against the rocks beneath the Bay Bridge became progressively louder. Finally Douglas came to a stop and pointed. Following the outstretched finger, the inspector eyes, adjusting to the low light, spotted the man he’d been seeking.

With a curt nod and a soft “Thanks” to his guide, Steve crossed the steep and uneven ground towards a group of men sitting on blankets and sleeping bags near the water’s edge. As he got closer, he cleared his throat and saw several heads swivel in his direction. One of them was Daryl Tyler.

Recognizing the cop, the young bearded man scrambled to his feet. “Hey…” he said by way of salutation, smiling. “What are you doin’ here? We thought you got caught up in that shit over at the warehouse.” There was surprise and actual relief in his voice and Steve smiled.

“I was, but I was on the top floor and got out pretty well unscathed.” He held the photo up. “Listen, ah, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to look at a picture for us.”

Tyler looked from the cop’s face to the 5x7 in his hand then back again. “Ah, yeah, sure…” He looked around, shaking his head. “I’m gonna need better light.”

“Yeah…” Steve almost moaned in frustration. He had realized, walking deeper into the gloom, that he should have brought a flashlight with him, but he also knew he wasn’t one hundred percent on top of his game at the moment, something that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He was worried that, because of his physical limitations, he would miss something, something that could help them solve this murderous riddle, or something that could inadvertently put their lives in danger.

Frowning, Tyler seemed to realize what was going on behind the detective’s worried frown, and he moved closer, gently putting a hand on the cop’s left elbow. “Are you okay?” he asked, genuine concern in his voice.

Slightly distracted, Steve nodded. “Yeah, I, ah, I got pretty banged up in the ‘quake. It’s, ah, it’s uncomfortable sometimes…” His voice sounded strained and Tyler’s frown got a little deeper.

“Come on,” he said quietly, “let’s get closer to the light and I’ll take a look at the picture.”

Nodding, Steve allowed himself to be led, slowly but steadily, back up the slope to where the light from the barrels fires bouncing off the underside of the bridge offered better illumination. When they got to a place where they could actually see the photo, they stopped. Steve was breathing in short, sharp gasps, and Tyler eyed him worriedly as he took the photo from the cop’s hand then stared at it.

He looked up at Steve again. “You’re wonderin’ if this is the woman I saw your dead guy with?” he asked. When the cop nodded, he shook his head. “Nah, sorry, she’s got the red hair all right but the one I saw was older and thinner.” He shrugged. “Sorry.”

With a strained smile, Steve took the photo back. “You don’t have to be sorry. That could be a good thing. It might mean our ‘red-haired woman’ is still alive.”

Tyler snorted in surprise. “Yeah, I didn’t thinka that.” His brow furrowed. “Listen, man, are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve nodded half-heartedly. “Yeah…” came out almost in a gasp. “Yeah, I’m fine. Listen, ah, thanks,” he hefted the photo in his hand slightly. “I might need you again, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Tyler acknowledged with a vague nod, continuing to stare worriedly at the increasingly unsteady cop. “Look, ah, you got a partner around here or something…?”

His eyes closed, swaying slightly, Steve nodded over his shoulder. “Yeah… he’s up there…”

Tyler grabbed his elbow again. “Come on,” he said softly, “let’s go find him…”

Without protest, Steve allowed himself to be led once more over the rough ground, barely watching where he was going, moving so slowly that he had plenty of time to plant his feet firmly before taking the next step. 

As they got progressively closer to the large group around the barrel fire, it was ‘Ponytail’ who noticed their approach. He tapped Mike on the arm and pointed; the detective followed the gesture and froze, alarmed. Snapping the notebook closed and stuffing it quickly in his topcoat pocket, he closed the distance between them quickly, throwing a glance at Tyler. “What happened?” came out in a worried rush.

Closing his eyes, still swaying slightly, Steve tried to smile. “I’m okay,” he said quietly in an attempt to sound reassuring and failed miserably.

“Yeah, sure you are,” Mike growled under his breath before snapping a quick glance in Tyler’s direction and nodding in appreciation. He took the photo out of Steve’s hand and put it in his pocket then put his hand on Steve’s elbow like Tyler had done. He looked at the others and nodded. “Thanks for the help, fellas,” he grunted as he began to lead his partner slowly away from the flaming barrel.

They had only gone a few yards when he leaned close to the younger man and asked, “Are you going be able to get back to the car, do you think?”

His eyes still partially closed, depending entirely on his partner to lead him safely out of the area, he whispered, “Yeah… I think so…”

Mike glanced at him anxiously as they kept moving slowly, “What’s wrong? Is it your back?”

Steve nodded slightly. “Yeah… it’s tightening up…”

The older man exhaled heavily, frowning, as he continued to lead his young friend to safety. “Careful here, this is the steep part.” He tightened his grip on Steve’s elbow. “You okay to do this?”

“Yeah… Yeah…” Steve said through clenched teeth. 

Mike got ahead of him, still holding his elbow and half pulled, half guided the younger man up the steep and slippery slope. When they finally got to the top and onto the sidewalk, Steve, who had been unconsciously holding his breath, released it in a rush he sank to the concrete on his hands and knees, then slowly rolled over to lay on his back as Mike watched worriedly.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” he growled unsteadily as he turned to start for the car.

“No!” Steve yelled as loudly as he dared and the older man stopped, turning back. “No, Mike, I don’t need to go to the hospital… really. I just need to lie down for awhile… that’s all. I swear…” He tried to chuckle reassuringly. “I swear…”

Mike stood over him, unconvinced, staring down.

Steve smiled again. “I’m okay… believe me…. All right?”

Swallowing heavily, Mike nodded, then he exhaled loudly and pointedly. “What do you need me to do?”

With a soft chuckle, Steve smiled up at his partner, who was little more than a silhouette under the glow from the nearby streetlamp. But, somehow, Steve knew the older man would have worry and guilt written all over his face. Keeping his tone light, he said calmly, “Why don’t you go get the car and take me home?”

He saw Mike’s head begin to nod. “Okay… okay… I’ll be right back.” 

As Mike disappeared, Steve stared up into the black night sky; he took as deep a breath as he dared, fighting the pain, and closed his eyes.

# # # # #

Mike kept glancing across the front seat, his face a worried mask.

Steve, who was leaning back, his head against the rest and his eyes closed, chuckled softly. “You know, I could relax even more if I knew you were were looking at the road more than you were looking at me.”

“Don’t you worry about me, buddy boy,” Mike growled affectionately, “I’ve been driving with only one eye on the road since before you were born.” The steering wheel in the fingertips of his left hand, he reached across the seat and patted the younger man on the leg. “How are you feeling?”

Steve exhaled loudly. “The same. I just need to lie flat for awhile, like a day or so.” He tried not to sound apologetic; he didn’t succeed.

Mike put both hands on the wheel to turn a corner then stepped on the gas. “You’re gonna get at least that long, I promise.” The LTD was climbing Montgomery.

There was a brief silence then Steve said quietly, “I’m sorry, Mike.”

The blue eyes shot across the front seat again. “You have nothing to be sorry about, this is not your fault. You’re just gonna take a few days off, that’s all.”

They drove the rest of the way in silence and Mike pulled the large sedan to the curb right in front of the apartment, directly under the ‘No Parking’ sign. He was out and around the car in a flash, opening the passenger side door and giving what help he could as, slowly and carefully, Steve slid out of the car and climbed the stairs to the apartment door.

# # # # #

Safely up in the bedroom, Mike helped his partner slip off his raincoat, jacket and leather vest. Then he took a step back and frowned comically. “You would wear a turtleneck tonight,” he chuckled dryly, eliciting a much needed smile from the younger man. “It’s cold out, I was trying to keep warm.”

Mike bobbled his head. “Can, ah, can you lift your arms?”

Steve moaned with a snort. “I can try.”

“Do the best you can.”

Getting his arms as high as he could, holding his breath against the pain, Mike managed, awkwardly with his handicap, to pull the dark brown wool sweater over his head. Both of them exhaled loudly in relief. 

“Well, that’s done. Where are your pajamas?”

“I just wear bottoms,” Steve explained, nodding at the top drawer of the bureau. “And a tee.”

“Of course you do,” Mike mumbled affectionately under his breath as he opened the drawer and got them out. He tossed them on the bed then disappeared down the corridor. As Steve picked up the t-shirt and, moving very slowly, put it on, he could hear the sound of cupboard doors being opened and closed hurriedly, then the tap was turned on briefly.

Mike returned in a rush with a bottle of Tylenol and a small Dixie cup of water. “Can you finish up?” he asked as he put them on the bedside table then glanced at his watch.

“Yeah,” Steve frowned, slowly undoing his belt buckle. “Why? Are you leaving?”

Mike stepped towards the door. “Yeah, I gotta go somewhere.” He suddenly seemed very distracted. “Look, ah, get yourself in bed, and try to get some sleep.” Then he was out the door and heading down the stairs almost at a run.

“Mike!?” Steve called after him but the older man didn’t stop and he heard front door slam shut. Frowning, he turned back to the bed, gritting his teeth as he started to undo his fly, the muscles in his back seeming to tighten with every move he made.


	25. Chapter 25

He had managed to get his pants off and pajamas bottoms on, moaning to himself each time the muscles in his back screamed at him. He wasn’t sure how long it had taken, and he had forgotten to turn off the overhead light before he laid down, but he didn’t have the will to get up again so he just put one of his pillows over his eyes and hoped for the best. 

It felt marginally better to lie flat, but he also knew it would take more than just a few hours to get back to normal. He was disappointed in himself, even though he knew it was pointless to feel that way; he’d had no more control over the earthquake than anyone else had, and when all was said and done, he’d actually gotten off a lot lighter than so many others.

So had Mike, he thought ruefully, and he would be forever grateful for that simple fact.

He was worried about his partner, who had left in such a rush without a word. He was concerned that he was following up on a tip he’d gotten from someone under the Bridge, but surely Mike would have said something before he left, even if it was only to let him know where he was going, a prerequisite that the lieutenant himself had always insisted on.

The Tylenol seemed to be taking affect; the pain was starting to become bearable. He allowed himself to melt into the bed; hopefully he would fall asleep sometime in the next few hours. He needed the rest, he knew.

He had just started to drift off when he heard his front door open. He frowned, his heart starting to pound. He could hear someone moving around on the first floor, seeming to go in and out of the kitchen, then the footsteps mounted the stairs. Trying not to wince, he lifted the pillow off his face and looked towards the open door.

Mike, casually dressed in khakis and a blue-and-white checked shirt, stepped into the entrance, a curious frown on his smiling face. “Why’s the light on?”

His brows still slightly knit, Steve tried to swallow an embarrassed smirk. “I forgot to turn it off before I laid down and I was too sore to get up again.”

“Oh… I see…” Mike chuckled slightly as he moved deeper into the room. “How are you feeling?”

“A little better. I think the Tylenol’s kicked in.”

“Good, good.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “I was going to ask where you went, but I can see you went home.”

“I did,” Mike confirmed with a nod, smiling. “I had to get my things.”

“What things?”

“You didn’t think I was going to leave you here by yourself, did you? I’m moving in. Well, for the next few days until you can manage for yourself.”

“Moving in…?”

“Umh-humh,” the older man nodded, still smiling. “I’ll call Rudy in the morning and tell him you and I are going to be taking a couple of days off… Rest and Recovery.” He winked, chuckling. “I’ll go out tomorrow for a bit and fill that fridge of yours and, if you can stand my cooking, then we’ll just hibernate here until you’re feeling better. How does that sound? Would you like that?”

Steve’s throat had tightened as his partner spoke, and it was suddenly hard to swallow. He smiled. “What about the case?” he managed to get out.

“The case?” Mike echoed as he stepped to the bed and sat carefully on the edge. “Well, I was thinking about that, and I think we can take a couple of days, you know. People are still on edge about the ‘quake and the people we want to talk to, or find, are probably scattered all over hell’s half acre right now so they could be harder to find. So, in my humble opinion, I think we’re good.” He chuckled warmly.

“Your opinion, hunh?” 

Mike nodded, bobbing his eyebrows. “Oh, say, I almost forgot. I know you’re supposed to alternate hot and cold to help your back. I brought a bag of frozen peas and a hot water bottle with me. Do you want to start that now or wait till morning?”

Steve was still smiling, looking a little overwhelmed. “Ah, I think I’m good for now… thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Mike’s grin wavered and his eyes suddenly clouded. He reached out with his good hand and laid it gently on his partner’s chest. “I, ah, I owe you an apology.”

The younger man frowned, his smile disappearing. “An apology? What for?”

“For this,” he gestured at the bed with his chin. “For making you come back to work too soon. I knew you weren’t a hundred percent and I shouldn’t have browbeat you into coming back.” He patted Steve’s chest gently. “I’m sorry.”

The younger man smiled warmly, having trouble finding his voice again. “Michael, you didn’t browbeat me into anything, believe me. And don’t for a second think that I wouldn’t’ve been with you these past couple of days. I think I wanted to try and put everything that happened at the warehouse behind me as fast as you did.” He put his hand over Mike’s. “I’m gonna be all right, it’s just going to take a few days, that’s all. And then we can get back to work and nail us a murderer or two, what do you say?”

His lips trembling and his eyes bright, Mike nodded, swallowing heavily. “Well then I better get my sorry ass out of here and let you get that rest you need. Besides, I gotta go make up my bed on that very comfortable couch of yours.” He started to get up; Steve grabbed his hand to stop him.

“You sure you’re okay on the couch?”

Mike grinned. “Perfectly. Don’t worry about me. Haven’t you figured out by now that I can sleep pretty well anywhere?” Chuckling, he stood and crossed to the door then turned back. “Do you want me to turn off the light or did you get used to having it on?” he asked with a wicked grin.

Steve smirked affectionately. “No, ah, no, you can turn it off, thanks.” 

With a warm chuckle, Mike snapped the light off. “Get some sleep,” he said softly as he turned away.

“You too,” Steve called after him.

Leaving the door open, wanting to be sure he could hear his partner if he called for him during the night, Mike retreated down the stairs, and to the first of who knew how many nights on the couch.

# # # # #

He opened his eyes slowly onto the mostly dark room; sunlight was peaking around the curtains. He had no idea what time it was and he was loath to move to look at the clock/radio beside the bed, afraid that the pain from the night before would come back with a vengeance.

He turned his head slightly towards the door; it was still open. He could hear muted movement from the first floor and smiled to himself; Mike was up and about already, of course. An unexpected but welcome warmth spread through him, the comforting realization that no matter what happened in his life, the remarkable man that he was lucky to call his friend as well as his partner would always be there for him. 

Wincing in anticipation, he raised his head a bit, feeling a slight tension in his back muscles and slammed his eyes shut, letting his head drop. After taking a couple of deep breaths, he tried again, with no better results. “Damn,” he muttered quietly.

He heard soft footfalls on the stairs then Mike tentatively peered around the doorframe. His eyebrows shot up. “Oh great, you’re awake.” Grinning, he stepped into the room. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

Steve smiled, raising his eyebrows. “Good morning. And I don’t know yet, I’m a little scared to try.” 

Mike stepped to the bed and held out his right hand. “You want to try? I have the hot water bottle ready. I thought we could start that hot and cold thing you need to do.”

Nodding slightly, Steve raised his right hand and grasped his partner’s. Mike braced himself and pulled. Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Steve put his left hand on the bed and started to push himself up. He managed to sit up then stopped, keeping his eyes closed and breathing heavily. 

“Good, good,” Mike crooned soothingly, releasing the young man’s hand. “So I tell you what, while you’re in this position, why don’t we get you up and you can go to the bathroom, and I’ll get the hot water bottle and then we’ll get you back into bed for the day. How does that sound to you?”

Looking a little trepidatious, Steve nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I think that’s probably a good idea.”

“Okay, let’s get you up,” Mike said lightly, trying to keep a positive attitude as he grabbed his young friend’s hand again.

# # # # #

By the time Steve shuffled slowly back from the bathroom, Mike had everything set up. There was a small mountain of pillows stacked against the headboard of the bed, a TV tray was set up nearby, and he had even moved the TV up from the living room, putting it on the dresser across from the foot of the bed.

Steve stopped in the doorway and stared in disbelief. “What’s all this?”

Mike, who was on his knees plugging the TV into the wall socket, chuckled as he pushed himself one-handed to his feet. “Oh, ah, well, I figured you were going to spending all your time up here for the next couple of days, at least, and it might be hard on your back to keep holding a book all that time, so - ta-da!!” He gestured with a flourish at the TV. 

Steve chuckled, shaking his head in wonder. “You didn’t have to do all this…”

“I know. But I did,” the older man chuckled as he crossed the room, taking Steve’s elbow and helping him back to the bed. 

“How did you get the TV up here?”

Mike laughed, holding up the cast. “Good balance.”

“Unh-hunh. And where did you get all these pillows?” 

“Oh, ah, Jeannie’s bed. She’s not using them right now, and I hope you won’t need them by the time she gets home next week so…” He chuckled, bobbling his head.

Steve sat carefully then leaned back against the stack of pillows with a relieved sigh. 

“How does that feel?”

“Good… good…” 

Mike reached to the foot of the bed and picked up a large rubber hot water bottle. “Lean forward,” he instructed softly and Steve did so, holding his breath. “Where do you want this?” 

Steve took the bottle and positioned it in the middle of his back then leaned against it.

“Great. Okay, you need to leave that on for twenty minutes then we take it off and wait for twenty minutes and then put the frozen peas on it for twenty minutes, and then repeat.”

With a curious smile, Steve looked up at him. “How do you know about all that?”

“Oh, ah, I made a couple of phone calls this morning.”

“Already?”

Mike chuckled. “It’s not as early as you think it is.”

Steve swivelled his head to look at the clock/radio. 9:47.

“I called your doctor -“

“My doctor?”

“Umh-humh, I got the phone number from Personnel. He told me what I needed to do for your back and, ah, he’s making a house call.”

“A house call?”

“Umh-humh, for your leg.” Mike grinned with a nod. “And your back.”

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“My doctor doesn’t make house calls. He made that patently obvious the first time I saw him.”

“Oh, well, you know me, I can be very persuasive…”. Mike laughed again, reaching out to ruffle the younger man’s hair.

“Yes, you can,” Steve chuckled softly.

As he headed to the door, Mike looked over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with breakfast. I made pancakes.” Without waiting for a response, he disappeared out into the hall and down the stairs.

Steve stared at the empty doorway, trying to swallow past the lump that had formed in his throat. He knew what Mike was doing, and he loved him all the more for it.


	26. Chapter 26

It turned out to be a busy day for Mike and a quiet one for his recovering partner. After he’d served the pancakes, the older man headed out on a grocery run. He returned almost an hour later, then it took time to get the bags up into the small apartment, only really able to carry one at a time. Before he’d even put the groceries away, he mounted the stairs to check on his ‘patient’ and give him a couple of Robaxacet pills that he had just picked up. Then he finished up in the kitchen and headed out again.

For his part, Steve tried to sleep as much as possible, not really interested in watching soap operas. He was half asleep when he heard the front door open for the second time that day and knew his partner had returned again. It was several moments before he heard the footfalls on the staircase and Mike’s head appeared around the doorframe.

Smiling when he saw the green eyes staring at him from beneath heavy lids, Mike stepped quietly into the room. “How are you feeling?” he asked as he approached the bed.

Nodding slowly, Steve tried to smile. “Those pills really make me drowsy…”

Chuckling, Mike, who was wearing a sports coat over his checked shirt, crossed to the bed and sat on the edge. “Well, as long as you’re not driving and your gun isn’t in the room, I think we’re good. Are they helping?”

“The pills…?”

“Yeah.”

Steve nodded. “Umh-humh.” 

“Good.” Mike stared at him for a second. “Listen, ah, there’s something I need to show you. Are you up for it?”

“What do you mean?”

Mike took a deep breath. “Well, I stopped by the Catholic Charities. They had the pictures of those kids you asked about.” He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small manila envelope. “Are you… awake enough to have a look at them?”

Steve, who had started to frown, nodded. “Yeah… yeah, of course.”

“Good.” Mike opened the top flap and tilted the envelop. Five Polaroid photos slid out into his left fingers and he handed them to his partner.

The top one was of a very young boy. Steve stared at it then shook his head. As he put it aside, his eyes fell on the second photo and he started. “That’s him, I’m sure of it,” he said excitedly, and Mike smiled. 

“Good.” He took the photo from the younger man’s hand and put it back in his pocket. 

The third photo was another toddler and Steve shuffled it aside quickly, looking at the remaining two pictures for the baby. He held both photos side by side and stared at them, frowning. Mike watched him closely, almost like he would a suspect.

There was a long silence as the green eyes went back and forth between the two Polaroids. Finally Steve exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly, sounding disappointed in himself. He felt a gentle pat on his shoulder then a reassuring squeeze. 

“Take your time,” he heard his partner’s encouraging voice and he recognized the tone; he’d heard it so many times over the years, but never directed at himself.

He took another deep breath, then shook his head. “I just don’t know, Mike…. If the baby was still in that t-shirt maybe… but…” He shook his head in frustration again. “Damn it.” He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten.

“Do me a favour,” came the calm, wonderfully familiar voice in his hear, “and close your eyes…” He did. “Now go back to the warehouse… you’re up on what’s left of the roof… you’re digging through the debris…” There was a pause and he nodded. “You find the mother… and there’s nothing you can do for her but you know she was holding the baby…” He nodded again, the began to shake almost imperceptibly. The hand on his shoulder tightened once more. “You find the baby… It’s looking up at you… and you see its face before you pick it up…”

Mike was staring at his young friend’s profile, watching him relive those horrific moments in the rubble, well aware that the baby wasn’t the only life that was on his mind as he dug furiously through what was left of the huge building that only moments before had been a safe haven for so many people that had been dealt a bad hand. He felt the shoulder under his hand stiffen and Steve opened his eyes and looked down at the photos again. He raised the one in his left hand. “It’s this one.”

“Are you sure?” Mike asked softly.

The younger man nodded. “Yeah… yeah, it’s this one.”

“Good…”. Mike’s hand slid to the back of his partner’s neck and he squeezed gently. “Good…” He took his hand away and reached for the photo in Steve’s left hand, sliding it into the pocket of his jacket with the other one. Then he took the other three photos and put them back in the envelope.

As he stood, he said quietly, “They still haven’t identified the mother, as far as I know, but at least they can get the kids back together now.” He stared at the young man proudly. “Listen, ah, the sooner I let them know, the better. Are you gonna be okay here again for a bit if I high-tail it back to the Charities and give them the good news?”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” Steve’s voice sounded far away.

Mike nodded slowly, as if to himself. “I’ll, ah, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” 

When he got to the door, he heard his name called and turned back. Steve was looking at him with a soft, grateful smile. “Thanks…” he said quietly.

Mike stared at him silently for a beat then nodded before he turned and disappeared down the stairs.

# # # # #

The raucous cheering of the game show audience faded as the station went to a commercial break. Steve turned his head slightly. Mike had dragged a chair up from the kitchen and was sitting nearby, both feet on the floor, his hands in his lap and his chin on his chest, sound asleep; it had been a very busy day for him, and it was far from over. Chuckling affectionately, Steve looked back at the TV.

Several minutes later, the doorbell rang. Both of them started in surprise, Mike managing to catch himself before he fell off the chair. He looked at Steve self-consciously. The younger man laughed, raising his eyebrows, and nodded towards the door. “I think the doctor is here.”

“Oh, ah, great…” Mike stammered as he got to his feet and wobbled a little unsteadily out the door, trying to wake himself up.

As he listened to the sounds of his partner greeting his doctor at the door, he made a mental note to make sure that this would be the last thing that Mike would do today. The man needed rest almost as much as he did, and he would make sure that it happened.

# # # # #

Mike was sitting on the sofa, trying to read the newspaper. He couldn’t concentrate and kept glancing up the stairs. After he had led the doctor to the bedroom, he’d returned to the living room to give them some privacy. But his worry was getting the better of him and he couldn’t focus.

He was trying to read an article recapping last night’s Giants game when the phone rang and he grabbed the receiver before Steve picked up the bedroom extension. “Hello?”

“Mike?” It was Haseejian.

“Yeah. Norm?”

“Yeah, Rudy said I could find you there. Listen, you got a minute?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Well, ah, it’s about Bobby Thornton.”

# # # # #

The bedroom door opened and the middle-aged doctor, his black bag in his hand, started down the staircase. Mike, who had been sitting quietly on the couch, staring into space, got up to meet him. “So how is he, Doc?” he asked, trying to keep his anxiety under control.

The physician smiled. “He’s doing just fine, Lieutenant. Don’t worry. The laceration on his leg is healing very well, no worries there. And his back spasms are to be expected, considering what he went through. And what you’re doing for him, the muscle relaxers and the hot and cold therapy, and making him rest? Well, that’s exactly what he needs. It’s going to take time, it always does, but he’ll be just fine.”

Mike’s relieved smile got wider as the doctor talked and he visible relaxed. “Thanks, Doc, that’s exactly what I needed to hear, you have no idea.”

“Well, I’m glad I could ease your mind,” the doctor chuckled as he stepped towards the door. “And you look after yourself too, you hear,” he ordered with a smile, nodding towards the cast and raising his eyebrows.

“I will, Doc, thanks again.” Mike shut the door and, with a relieved sigh, turned and headed up the stairs. 

Steve was on the phone and he held up a finger to stop his partner from interrupting. “Yes… yes, perfect… And how long will that take?…. Okay, thank you very much… Yes, thank you.” He hung up.

As Mike stepped deeper into the room, he pointed at the phone. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, ah, I just ordered us supper.”

The older man frowned. “What? I just bought a whole bunch of groceries. We have some steaks in the fridge, I was gonna grill them a little later…”

“Well, I think you’ve done enough for the day so we’re getting dinner delivered. And I’m paying for it, so don’t say a word… just accept it.” He stared uncompromisingly, raising his right index finger again.

After a startled beat, Mike smiled. “Okay… uh, so what are we having?”

“Chinese. There’s a really good take-out place just around the corner off Montgomery. I order from them a lot. You’ll love it.”

“Okay, great…” Mike chuckled as he sat in the kitchen chair. “So the doctor said you’re doing fine. Is that what he told you?”

“Yep. Just gonna take some time.”

“Yeah, that’s what he told me too.” Steve stared at his partner and smiled but he could see something in Mike’s eyes that wasn’t there before. 

Noticing the scrutiny, Mike cleared his throat lightly and averted his eyes, looking towards the TV. He was just about to see if Steve wanted to watch the news when the younger man asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mike shook it off, glancing at the younger man, then standing up and starting towards the TV.

“Mike.”

He stopped but didn’t turn.

“What happened?”

After a beat, Mike exhaled loudly, returned slowly to the chair and sat.

“Norm called while you were with the doctor,” he said flatly.

“And…?” Steve prompted when nothing more was forthcoming.

“And he said he got a call from the Army about Bobby’s funeral. They’re gonna have one, it’s all been arranged with the Thornton family for the day after tomorrow… at the San Joaquin Valley National Cemetery down near Merced.”

Steve smiled. “That’s great. It’s a real honor, isn’t it?”

Mike nodded, smiling grimly.

Frowning, Steve asked, “So, what’s the problem? It’s not far. It won’t take long to get down there…”

Mike cleared his throat again. “They, ah… the family wants a small funeral. Just the immediate family and the honor guard. No… outsiders.”

Steve stared at him, his heart suddenly breaking, knowing exactly what this meant. He watched silently as Mike brought his right hand up to cover his mouth, his lips quivering, his eyes bright. After a few long silent seconds, he asked gently, “So you’re not going to go?”

Staring into space, Mike slowly shook his head. “No… No, I’ll, ah… I have to respect the family’s wishes…”


	27. Chapter 27

Deftly using his chopsticks, and once more thankful that it was his left hand in a cast, Mike looked up from his plate and smiled. “This is really good.”

“I know,” Steve agreed from the bed as he picked up a pile of vermicelli noodles with his own chopsticks. “And they’re cheap too. Plus,” he emphasized the word, “they’re open late so that’s always handy.” He stuffed the noodles into his mouth.

“Yeah, I bet.”

Talk had been at a premium since Mike had told him about Bobby Thornton’s funeral plans, and Steve hadn’t pushed his partner, knowing the older man had to work through the disappointment on his own. An understanding and supportive presence was what he needed right now.

They ate in silence for several beats, the soft drone of a local news broadcast on the TV in the background, before Steve raised his head again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going when you bolted out of here last night?”

Mike looked at him with a frown then chuckled. “Oh that… Well, I knew you’d try to talk me out of it and I didn’t want you to waste your breath, or your energy. And I also knew I wouldn’t be gone very long - and I wasn’t. So…?”

“Well, you had me worried there for a bit. I thought you were high-tailing it out of here to track down something somebody’d told you at the Bridge.”

Mike sat back slightly, his brow furrowing. “Oh, jeez, I never thought of that. Sorry,” he chuckled again.

Steve smiled with a slight shrug as his picked up a garlic spare rib with his fingers. “Yeah, well, just don’t do it again,” he ordered with feigned gravity.

Mike snorted a laugh. “Yes, sir,” he growled playfully, saluting with his chopsticks. He picked up a dumpling and popped it into his mouth, his brow furrowing as he chewed. When he swallowed, he said quietly, “I think I’ll head into the office for a little bit tomorrow, see if there’s anything in yet about those fingerprints.”

Steve nodded, still chewing. “So tell me, why do you think it’s a man and a woman who are doing this?”

Mike’s frown got a little deeper. “I’m not sure, to be perfectly honest. I can’t put my finger on any one thing… it’s just a, a gut feeling, you know what I mean?”

“No, really? Please, tell me, have you had this kind of feeling before?” Steve chuckled facetiously, looking down at his paper plate and pushing what was left of his meal around as he waited for the response he knew would be coming. When Mike didn’t say anything, he looked up into very narrowed blue eyes under knit brows, the mouth a flat line bordering on a smirk. He snorted, trying to look innocent but not doing a very good job and Mike reached out with his right hand, chopsticks and all, to playfully swat him on the back of the head then thought better of it and stopped himself.

Continuing to chuckle, Steve went back to his dinner, a warm smile lighting his features. Mike, watching the younger man affectionately for several beats, laughed and shook his head as reached for the container of chow mein on the TV tray and piled more onto his plate.

# # # # #

Mike was dumping the used paper plates and food containers into the garbage can in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. He straightened up with a frown, grabbing a towel from the nearby counter and wiping his hands before heading to the front door. 

He took a beat to look through the peephole, then smiled as he opened the door on the comely young woman standing on the stoop, whose head snapped back in surprise when she saw him.

“Oh, uhm, hi!” she blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Hi,” Mike greeted cordially. After an awkward beat, he asked genially, “Can I help you?”

Her smile wavered and her eyes darted past him, obviously looking for Steve. “Uhm, yeah, uhm…” She smiled uncertainly, and he knew she was trying to remember his name. They had only met once, in passing, and it was obvious she and Steve had not spent a lot of time discussing his professional life. She looked at him again. “Uh, is Steve around?”

He smiled pleasantly. “You must be Jennifer,” he said graciously as he took a step back, opening the door wider to allow her to enter. As she did, he said, “I’m Mike.”

She looked at him as she moved deeper into the living room, her eyes widening, and she nodded. “You’re his partner, right…?” She held out her right hand. “I think we met once before.”

“Yes, we did,” he confirmed, still smiling, as he shut the door then took her hand. He glanced obviously up the stairs then nodded sagely. “He’s ah, he’s up in the bedroom,” he whispered sotto voce, as if it was a secret, and she frowned.

“Okay…” she said slowly, uncertainly. She glanced around the living room, noticing the blankets and pillows on the sofa, but didn’t say anything. He just stood patiently, staring at her with a warm but enigmatic smile. She pointed vaguely up the stairs. “I’ll, ah, I’ll just go up and see him,” she said softly with a conspiratorial smile.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded with a closed-mouth smile that was suspiciously close to a benevolent leer and she started slowly up the steps. Chuckling, he headed back to the kitchen.

# # # # #

Mike heard the bedroom door open and he shot to his feet and tiptoed quickly but quietly into the kitchen. He wanted to make sure she could leave the apartment without another awkward encounter. She went straight to the front door and when he heard it close, he slipped out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The bedroom door was closed and he knocked discreetly. “Yeah?”

He opened the door and stuck his head in. “Hi.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

Steve looked at him suspiciously. “Hi,” he answered flatly. 

“Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.”

Nodding and smiling like a cat that ate a canary, Mike took a couple of steps into the room. “She, ah, she was here a while…?”

“We had a lot to talk about.”

The nodding getting more pronounced, Mike pursed his lips. “Right… right…” He shrugged slightly, inquisitively. “You were… just talking…?”

With a narrow-eyed smirk, Steve glared at him, trying not to grin. “I can barely move, as you well know, so… yes, we were just talking…” He snorted. “Swear to god, if I could move I’d throw a pillow at you right now…”

Laughing, Mike plunked himself down on the kitchen chair. “I got to admit, she is a looker, buddy boy. You sure can pick ‘em.” He sobered slightly. “How are you feeling?”

Chuckling softly, Steve smiled. “Not bad. I think I’ll take another one of those back pills before I try to sleep though. Hey, ah, can you give me a hand up so I can get to the bathroom?”

“That’s my job right now,” Mike laughed as he got up and extended his hand.

# # # # #

“How’s Steve doing?” Healey asked as Mike crossed the bullpen, taking his hat off and dropping it on the coat rack. Though his was in khakis, a workshirt and a windbreaker, he still sported the fedora. 

“He’s coming along, Dan,” he smiled as he crossed around his desk, checking for phone messages. “It’s gonna take awhile, he’s pretty banged up.”

Healey was nodding. He gestured towards the cast. “How’s the wrist?”

Mike glanced at it then smiled. “If it wasn’t for this,” he raised his arm slightly, brandishing the cast, “I wouldn’t know anything was wrong.”

“Hey, Mike,” Tanner greeted his boss as he slid past Healey into the office. The sergeant backed away and returned to his desk as Tanner, his open notebook in his hand, stopped in front of the desk. “How are you -?” He started then stopped when Mike turned a jaundiced eye on him; he knew the lieutenant hated answering personal questions over and over. He looked tired and drawn, but Tanner knew, from long experience, he would never admit to it. “Okay, ah, about those fingerprint inquiries we sent out,” he continued quickly and Mike flashed him a quick and grateful smile.

“Yeah, what’ve you got?”

“Well, we got one positive I.D. that came in late last night. From L.A. Our John Doe Number 2, the one you and Steve started with? Seems he was picked up two years ago down there for vagrancy.” He glanced down at the notebook. “Name’s Ronald David Drabinsky. Forty-two years old. No fixed address… obviously. They’re sending his package up - we should get it later today or first thing tomorrow. It’s not big, they said, but it has his mug shot at least.”

“Good, good…” Mike was nodding.

“Ah, but that’s not the only thing,” Tanner continued with an enigmatic smile. “He was booked with a woman companion…” He raised his eyebrows suggestively and watched as his boss stared at him, tilting his head slowly.

“A woman, you say…?” Tanner nodded. “Well, that’s very interesting, isn’t it?” Mike’s eyes drifted away slightly as he gave this some thought. ‘Cause we have reports of our John Doe Number 1 being seen with a woman as well.” His eyes snapped back at the young inspector. “Do you have anything on her?”

Smiling, Tanner nodded. “Her file’s being sent up too but I know her name is Margaret Jane Tolliver and she’s 39 years old.”

“Hair colour, by any chance?”

Tanner’s grin got a little wider. “I asked. She was a brunette, at least at the time of her arrest.”

“Humh. Ours is a red-head. Dye job?” Mike speculated with a shrug.

The other man frowned. “You think it’s the same woman?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “I’m just throwing it out there.” He stared at Tanner and smiled proudly. “Good work, Bill, really good work. It made this trip in worthwhile,” he chuckled.

“You’re welcome. Ah, listen, when I get those files, I’ll bring them over to Steve’s, okay?”

“I’d appreciate that, yeah, thanks.”

Tanner flipped his notebook closed. “You got it. Say hey to Steve for me, will ya?” he asked as he turned back at the door. 

“Will do,” Mike assured him as he finally sat and picked up the receiver of the black phone on the desk, dialing three numbers. “Rudy? Yeah, it’s Mike…. Yeah… Yeah, hey, listen, you got a minute?…. Okay, I’ll be right up.”

# # # # #

Mike pulled the dark blue sedan to the curb and turned the engine off with a frustrated sigh. He’d had to make a U-turn on Union when he couldn’t find a parking space but managed to snag one on Montgomery. It meant an uphill climb to get back to Union, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. 

He had spent longer at the Hall than he had anticipated; he wanted to get Olsen up to speed on everything and make sure arrangements had been made for his absence for the next few days. Then, before he left, he’d made a trip to Missing Persons to see how they were doing with the identifications of the people from the warehouse hospitalized after the quake.

He took the key out of the ignition and, checking for any traffic coming up from behind, opened the door. He had slammed the door and put the key in the lock when everything started to spin wildly. Instinctively, he reached out with his left hand to steady himself, his cast slamming hard into the roof of the car as he fought to stay on his feet, his legs suddenly weak and his knees buckling. He dropped the keys, his right hand grabbing the door handle to keep himself from collapsing. He closed his eyes, leaning against the side of the car, and waited for the spinning to stop. 

When it finally did, he opened his eyes slowly, pushed himself away from the car and, bracing himself against it with the fingers of his left hand, bent slowly to pick up the keys and stuff them in the pocket of his windbreaker. His heart was pounding and everything sounded muted and far away.

Keeping his right hand lightly on the hood, he slowly circled the sedan to the sidewalk and started unsteadily up the hill towards Union, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, hoping he would make it.


	28. Chapter 28

Steve heard the front door open and close, and he folded the newspaper he’d been reading and set it on the bed. But after several silent seconds, he began to frown; he couldn’t hear any movement. “Mike?” he called out but there was no response. 

Muttering worriedly under his breath, he had just grabbed the light blanket covering his legs and pulled it away when he heard heavy footfalls on the stairs and froze, waiting anxiously. With a strained smile, Mike appeared in the doorway, his right hand gripping the frame, and suddenly every instinct told Steve that something was seriously amiss. “What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly, his heart starting to pound.

Continuing to smile, Mike shook his head. “Nothing,” he tried to chuckle, “nothing…. How are you feeling?”

“It’s not nothing. What’s wrong?” Steve demanded. Even under the brim of the fedora, Steve could see how unnaturally pale the older man looked. When Mike just stared at him, smiling weakly, he asked again, “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head slightly, the older man tried to chuckle. “I just got a little dizzy, that’s all.”

Steve swallowed heavily, suddenly feeling very scared and helpless. He stared at his partner under a furrowed brow and tried to keep his tone even but forceful. “Mike, I want you to go back downstairs and lie down on the couch. Right now.” When the older man started to shake his head in protest, Steve cut him off. “Mike, please…. For me, okay? Please… right now…”

The smile wobbling and disappearing, Mike slowly nodded. “Okay…” he breathed, trying to smile reassuringly again as he turned unsteadily and stepped to the stairs. 

Steve held his breath as he listened to the slow descent, only releasing it when he heard Mike step off the last stair and move deeper into the living room. Then, grimacing against the pain, he reached out for the phone and pulled it onto the bed, snapping up the receiver and dialing as quickly as he could.

# # # # #

The room was spinning by the time Mike crossed slowly to the couch and he sat heavily, his stomach starting to heave. Closing his eyes, he leaned back, his head against the couch, trying to get the dizziness under control, then he slid slowly onto his right side, laying his head on the pillow that was already there. Shifting so he was on his back, he dragged his legs up onto the sofa and laid his right hand over his stomach. 

Gradually the queasiness began to subside but the weakness and dizziness lingered. His entire body seemed heavy and he felt like he never wanted to move again.

He lost consciousness long before the the key turned in the lock and the front door opened.

# # # # # 

Steve had been staring at the open doorway, straining to hear anything from the ground floor for longer than he cared to admit. He had tried to get up several times but the pain drove him back down and he realized he would be of no use anyway. He had made the necessary call and he knew help was on the way.

He heard the turning lock, the door opening and the sound of rapid footsteps moving deeper into the living room. He could hear the murmur of voices then heavy footfalls pounding up the stairs towards him.

Breathing heavily, a frowning and obviously distressed Dan Healey appeared in the entrance, relaxing slightly when he spotted the young inspector staring at him worriedly. 

“Thank god,” Steve breathed as his colleague moved deeper into the room. “How is he?”

“Sandra’s having a look at him right now. He seems to be asleep. How are you?” he asked, urgency in his voice.

Steve frowned. “I’m fine,” he growled, obviously angry at himself, “I just can’t move without screaming right now.” He shook his head in frustration then met Healey’s concerned eyes and tried to smile apologetically. “Thanks for getting here so fast.”

Knowing Healey’s wife was an ER nurse, and not wanting to call for an ambulance and endure Mike’s wrath if one wasn’t warranted, Steve had gambled that a call to his colleague was his only option.

“Well, we were lucky it’s her day off and we don’t live too far from here.” He held up a key. “You really shouldn’t leave this under your neighbor’s planter, though. Look, ah, is there anything I can do for you?”

Steve shook his head. “Just…” Steve nodded past him down the stairs, “just tell me how’s he doing.”

Healey nodded grimly. “Will do.” He turned and disappeared down the stairs.

His wife was kneeling on the carpet, hovering over the couch. The first two fingers of her right hand were pressed against the inside of Mike’s right wrist and she was staring at her watch. He waited till she looked up at him and he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“His pulse is a little fast but nothing to worry about.” She got slowly to her feet, looking down at her patient. “He’s not warm, so I’m not worried about infection or a virus of some kind.” She ran a hand gently over the top of his head. “He has quite a bump. Did he hit his head in the earthquake, do you know?”

With a shrug, Healey shook his head. “I don’t know. All I knew about was his wrist.”

She nodded slowly, thinking. “Well, if he hit his head, I’m sure they did a scan at the hospital, so I don’t think he has a brain bleed but he probably has a concussion. And if he’s been doing a lot these past couple of days, like you said, I think his body’s just shutting down on him, taking a time out, so to speak.”

“Do we need to call an ambulance?” Healey sounded terrified.

She smiled at him warmly, shaking her head. “No, not yet anyway. I think he just needs complete rest and a little TLC for the next day or so.”

Healey looked around, frowning. “Right here? On Steve’s couch?”

She glanced down at the sofa and smiled. “Why not? He looks comfortable, doesn’t he? Look, I’m off for the next three days, so I can stay overnight tonight and look after both of them,” she glanced pointedly up the stairs, “and I have a feeling by this time tomorrow night, Mike will be well on his way to being his old self again.”

While her husband stood in the centre of the living room, looking totally baffled, she smiled indulgently. “Honey, don’t just stand there. We have work to do.” As she bent down and started to take Mike’s shoes off, she gestured with her head towards the kitchen. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and put a pot of coffee on? I’m sure Steve has a coffeemaker somewhere.”

Shell-shocked, he started to move towards the kitchen.

“And when you’re finished with that, go up and tell Steve he doesn’t have to worry. Then I’ll have more things for you to do.”

# # # # #

“Well, you’re looking a little more relaxed,” Sandra Healey chuckled warmly as she followed her husband into the bedroom. The sergeant was carrying a serving tray laden with plates and cutlery.

“Yes, definitely,” Steve exhaled, running both hands over his face. “I am so glad you guys are here, you have no idea…” He smiled at the couple as Healey put his burden on the TV tray, trying to suppress a comical groan. “That smells wonderful.”

Sandra laughed. “Well, it’s just stuff you had in the fridge, but I have to confess, nobody can grill a steak like my husband here.” She grinned at Healey and patted him affectionately on the back as he picked up one of the plates and put it on the breakfast tray straddling Steve’s legs on the bed. 

The sergeant wagged his head with an insouciant smirk. “Thank you, my dear.” Everyone chuckled.

Healey had dragged another one of the kitchen chairs up to the bedroom and he and Sandra sat on either end of the TV tray.

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked as he cut off a piece of the thick t-bone, noting that it was grilled to perfection.

“Mike? He’s still asleep. I have a feeling he’s going to be all night. He’s totally wiped out.”

Steve looked down, fidgeting with the fork. “Are you sure he’s just -?”

“Asleep?” she interrupted him gently. When he nodded tentatively, meeting her eyes with a worried frown, she smiled. “Yeah, I am. I’ve seen this before. He’s okay, his vitals are all fine. But, just so nobody worries, I’m going to sleep in the armchair beside him tonight -“

“No, you don’t have to -“

“Steven, it’s already been arranged. Dan is going to go home after we eat and get some of my things and then he’s going to go home for the night and come back tomorrow morning. And I’m going to spend the night with both of you… just as a precaution.”

“A precaution?”

She stared at him like a mother who was rapidly losing her patience. “Mike needs to rest and you can’t get out of bed. I’d be breaching my Hippocratic oath if I left the pair of you alone for the night.” The sarcasm in her voice was downright dripping and behind her Steve could see her husband biting his lips and trying not to laugh.

Knowing when to back off, Steve put the piece of steak in his mouth and smiled wanly as he chewed. He could see Healey chuckling silently in his peripheral vision.

# # # # #

Steve was watching a detective show, not really paying much attention, when there was a soft knock on his door. “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and Sandra Healey, smiling broadly and carrying a mug of a steaming liquid, bent down to pick a second one off the floor before stepping into the room. “It’s time for your muscle relaxer and I thought you might want to wash it down with a cup of tea. I rifled through your cupboards and found some camomile.”

He smiled, taking the proffered cup. “Thank you,” he purred happily, taking a sip. “That’ll hit the spot.”

She chuckled as she put her cup on the bedside table and picked up the small box of pills, snapping one out of the blister pack. She handed it to him and he popped it in his mouth then took another sip. She nodded at one of the kitchen chairs. “Do you mind if I join you?”

He smiled. “No, not at all. I’d like the company, actually.” As she sat, he asked, trying to hide his anxiety, “How’s is -?”

“- Mike doing?” She chuckled, getting used to the question that greeted her every time she entered the room. “Well, he’s still sleeping, but I think you’ll be happy to know that a little while ago he… well, he didn’t exactly wake up but he made a few moaning noises, moved around a bit then turned onto his side and went right back to sleep.” He smiled warmly. “He’s going to be fine, so you can stop worrying about him. And I bet you the first thing he does when he finally wakes up tomorrow is come up here to see how you’re doing, no matter what I say or what I do to try to keep him down there.”

Steve laughed softly, cradling the mug in both hands. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” He looked back at the TV.

She took a sip of her tea, studying the young man in the bed she’d only met a few times at the occasional departmental function, mostly Christmas parties, but she’d heard a lot about the boss and his partner from her husband over the last few years. And in the past few hours, getting to know him a little better, she had sensed in him a need to talk, most likely about what they had just survived. Men, she knew, were sometimes not the best communicators.

She let the silence lengthen between them for awhile before she asked quietly, “So… what was it like, after the earthquake…?”

He turned slowly and met her warmly open stare, her invitation to unburden. And gradually, softly, he began to talk, about surviving the initial shock, injured but alive and able to function; about the young mother and her two children; the other victims they dug from the debris well into the night; and the long, agonizing hours waiting for word about his partner.

It was after midnight before she finally returned to the living room. She stood over the sleeping man on the sofa, watching him breathe, deeply moved by the strong bond he so obviously shared with the young man in the bed upstairs.


	29. Chapter 29

The morning passed quietly in the small Union Street apartment. Dan Healey had dropped by just after 7 to see if his wife needed anything before he headed into the office, and to check on his colleagues. They were both still asleep and she had everything she needed, so he left with the promise to return when his day was finished, or for her to call if she needed him for any reason.

She had made a large pot of oatmeal and was letting it simmer on a back burner while she waited for her ‘patients’ to wake up. Steve was the first, shortly after nine, and, with her professional assistance, after she’d convinced him his partner had spent an uneventful night ‘sawing logs’, he’d made his way to the bathroom for his morning ablutions.

He was actually pretty surprised that he felt so much better, but she made him promise, when she delivered his breakfast and the morning newspaper, that he would continue to spend the day in bed. She had made it sound like his acceptance of the circumstances was a genial acquiescence, when in actuality it was an ultimatum wrapped in a charming smile and years of experience.

It was early afternoon when she started to hear rustling and soft moans from the sofa in the living room. She looked up from the book she was reading to see Mike stirring under the heavy blanket. He had shifted onto his back sometime during the night and was staring at the ceiling when he finally opened his eyes, yawning and stretching slightly but making no attempt to get up.

Not wanting to startle him, she watched silently as he lay there as if taking stock of his condition, more than likely trying to remember how he got there and why he felt so lethargic.

She saw him stretch and yawn again, very gradually pulling the blanket away with his right hand then attempting to push himself up. With a warm smile, she put the book down and got up, quietly approaching the couch. He had just gotten his feet on the floor and was sitting up with his eyes closed when she said quietly, “So how are you feeling, Mike?” 

He froze but he didn’t jump, a reaction she attributed to his long years on the force, and something she had been counting on. He turned his head slowly in her direction, frowning, then his still pale and obviously fatigued features broke into a pleased and surprised smile. “Sandra…?”

Smiling back at him genially, she nodded with a soft chuckle.

“What in the world are you doing here?”

She stepped closer, looking down at him. “Steve called Dan when he saw you weren’t feeling well. And before I answer any more of your questions, please answer mine. How are you feeling?”

He actually seemed to think about it before he answered, obviously remembering what he had gone through. He shook his head slowly, as if trying to find the words. “I’m not sure… I just feel kinda, I don’t know, like I’m still tired.” He looked up at her again. “How long did I sleep?”

“Oh, about 24 hours…” Her smile was almost apologetic.

He frowned, his mouth opening but no sound coming out. “What…?” he stammered eventually.

“Umh-humh,” she nodded.

Instinctively, his eyes snapped to the stairs and he put his right hand on the couch to push himself up. “How’s Steve -?” he started to ask as he tried to get up but she was faster and put a hand on his chest and pushed him back down.

“No no no, you’re not going anywhere,” she admonished gently. “Steve’s fine, don’t worry about him. I just want to have a good look at you first before you get up.” Her voice had taken on a professional edge that she knew he couldn’t ignore. 

After staring at her for a beat, and she staring back, he dropped his eyes and raised his right hand placatingly. “Okay… you win. But I really need to go to the bathroom first. And it’s upstairs.”

She smiled. “I know it is,” she chuckled, her experienced eyes raking him up and down, “and yes, you can go to the bathroom. But you really need to let me thoroughly check you out when get back, all right?” Not waiting for a response, she put her right hand out. “Now, will you at least let me help you up?”

He stared at her expressionlessly for another couple of seconds then reached out and took her hand. As he got to his feet, he swayed suddenly; her grip on his hand tightened and she put her other hand on his upper left arm, her smile disappearing. He caught his balance quickly, looking at her self-consciously. “I guess I slept too long…”

Still frowning, she held onto his hand for a couple of seconds longer then asked, “Are you dizzy?”

He shook his head. “No, not really, just… stiff…”

She continued to hold him, staring into his face, looking for signs of distress. After a couple of very long seconds, she asked, “Better?”

He nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” He released her hand and started slowly towards the stairs. She watched him go, satisfied he was stable as he grabbed the bannister and started up. 

The bedroom door was closed and he shuffled past it to the bathroom. On the way back, he knocked on the door, opening it without waiting for a response. Steve, the newspaper in his hands, was staring towards the door and his face lit up when his eyes fell on his visitor. “Oh my god, finally,” he exhaled, his entire body almost collapsing in relief, “I thought you were never going to wake up.”

Smiling, Mike stepped deeper into the room. “Yeah, I hear I missed a whole day,” he chuckled as he grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs before sitting.

Steve frowned at the move but didn’t say anything. “Well, you obviously needed the sleep. How are you feeling?”

Mike shrugged. “Kinda, I don’t know, sluggish, I guess. I think I slept too long.” He rubbed his right hand over his face. “How are you feeling? You look like you feel better.”

The younger man smiled gratefully. “Yeah, I do. Those pills are really working, thank god. And the rest too, I guess. But Sandra told me I have to spend at least the rest of the day in bed, so…”

“And she’s not one to trifle with,” Mike finished the thought with a smile and a chuckle, and Steve raised his eyebrows, nodding exaggeratedly. “Yeah, she wants to ‘check me out’ when I get back downstairs.”

“Well, I think that’s a good idea. So, ah, so what happened yesterday?”

Mike grimaced with a facial shrug, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t know. I got home here - I had to park on Montgomery ‘cause the street was filled - and as I was getting out of the car, I got really dizzy. I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it back here but I guess I did…”

“You don’t remember?”

Mike shook his head again. “Not really. I just remember trying not to think and to just keep moving.” “Well, you sure looked like hell when you got here.”

The older man frowned. “You saw me?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered slowly, “you came up here and stood in the doorway. I told you to go back downstairs and lie down. Don’t you remember?”

Pursing his lips, his eyes briefly unfocusing as if he was trying to remember, Mike shook his head slowly.

“Well, thank god you made it home and you’re all right. What made you dizzy, do you know?”

Another shake of the head. “I think I just overdid it. I haven’t had much sleep since… you know…” He glanced out the door towards the first floor. “But I think that’s about to change,” he laughed. “I better get down there before she comes looking for me.” He got up slowly, and Steve watched him, frowning. He turned back at the door, smiling. “I’ll see you later.”

# # # # #

Sandra had checked him out just as she wanted then, after he changed into clean clothes, served him a large bowl of oatmeal and a cup of fresh coffee while they sat at the kitchen table, making amiable small talk. She’d known Mike for years, even since her husband had been transferred to Homicide, and she’d always admired the lieutenant, who was a wonderful blend of tough and tender, she thought, the perfect role model for the men under his command.

He was just finishing the last of the oatmeal when she started. “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said hurriedly as she got to her feet and disappeared into the living room. She returned almost immediately with a large manila interoffice envelope. “Bill Tanner dropped this off earlier this morning,” she explained as she set it on the table near his right elbow.

“Oh, great.” Mike put the spoon down and sat back slightly, picking up the envelope and undoing the string-and-button fastener. “I forgot this was coming.” She picked up the bowl, getting it out of his way, as he awkwardly held the bottom end of the envelope with his left fingers, sliding the contents out onto the table.

“Your latest case?” she asked as she turned to the counter, knowing he probably wouldn’t be forthcoming with any details. So she was very surprised when he responded.

“Ah, yeah, Steve and I are in the middle of a real head-scratcher. Somebody seems to be murdering homeless middle-aged men,” he told her, almost abstractedly as he picked up one of the file folders and opened it, his trained eyes scanning the material quickly. “That’s why we were at the warehouse…” His voice trailed off and she knew, without even looking, that he was a world away.

She smiled knowingly as she went about tidying up the kitchen.

# # # # #

With the promise that he wouldn’t be too long, and that he would return to the sofa and rest some more, Mike climbed the stairs to the second floor, the files in hand. Steve looked up and smiled when his partner appeared in the doorway again, his eyes immediately going to the items in the other man’s hand.

“What have you got there?”

“Well, hopefully something to help us with the case,” Mike said enigmatically as he tucked the files under his left arm before pulling one of the kitchen chairs close to the bed. He glanced almost furtively back out the door as he sat. “I don’t have long; I promised Sandra I’d take another nap.” He frowned comically. “Sheesh, she’s a taskmaster…” he growled with a chuckle. “But I wanted to show you this. I talked to Bill yesterday when I was at the office. And he told me we got a hit on one of those sets of fingerprints we sent out. Our JD Number 2 was arrested for vagrancy in L.A. a couple of years ago. Bill dropped these off awhile ago” He had opened one of the files and passed it over.

Steve’s brow furrowed as he quickly scanned the report and the mugshot. Mike watched silently, a slight smile on his face and the twinkle back in his eye. When Steve finished, nodding slightly, he looked up. “Well, that’s a start,” he said encouragingly.

His smile getting wider, Mike opened the second file and started to hand it over. “Oh, it’s more than a start. Have a look at this.” He watched carefully as Steve, staring at him with a frowning curiosity, took the file without looking, then dropping his eyes to the small, coloured mug shot paperclipped to the top of the file.

When he finished reading the accompany report, he looked up. “Well, well, well, isn’t that interesting…”

Mike grinned. “I thought so.”

The younger man frowned. “So, what, you think maybe it’s the same woman that our Number 1 was seen with? With a dye job?”

The older man grimaced. “That crossed my mind… but what are the odds, right?” He shrugged. “But what this does is give us is another mug shot to show your Daryl Tyler. So I was thinking -“

“Mike, neither of us are in any shape to be going -“

“Did I say that?” His partner’s voice rose a decibel and an octave, and he quickly glanced at the door, pausing guiltily to listen in case Sandra’s had overheard him. Lowering his voice, he turned back to the younger man. “I have an idea…”


	30. Chapter 30

“You have an idea.” The statement was dripping with sarcasm.

Mike nodded earnestly. “Yes, I do.”

“You and your ideas…. It was you and your ideas that got us both here, you do realize that, right?” Though the words were harsh, the tone was light and the older man pursed his lips and narrowed his stare.

“You’re a ‘fine mess’ away from beginning to sound like Oliver Hardy, you know. It’s not becoming.” 

They stared at each other without moving, both expressionless, for several long seconds, then broke at the same time, laughing and smiling. And for a few moments, everything felt normal, as it should be, and they were grateful for the respite.

“So what’s this great idea of yours?” Steve asked finally with a gentle chuckle.

“I didn’t say it was great, I just said it was an idea,” Mike corrected pedantically, with a pointed smile, and leaned forward slightly. “Seeing as both of us are under house arrest,” he laughed and Steve joined him, “I just think we should ask Bill and Lee if they can track Daryl Tyler down and bring him in, or here, and you can talk to him face to face and show him the picture. What do you think?”

“So you want me to give Bill a call?”

Mike shrugged. “Why not? I think the odds of either of us being allowed to leave here anytime in the next 24 hours are slim to none, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I’d bet money on that. Okay, why don’t you leave these with me,” Steve hefted the files in his lap, “and you go have that lie down you promised Sandra, and I’ll give Bill a call.”

Mike winked as he got up. “Sound like a plan, Babe, sounds like a plan…”. He crossed to the door, chuckling.

“Babe…?”

Mike stop and looked back, frowning. “That’s was Oliver Hardy’s nickname. Didn’t you know that?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

Mike grinned. “Hunh. Well, it’s nice to know I can still teach you something… How about that?” And with a happy smile, he disappeared out the door.

# # # # #

The remainder of the day passed without fanfare. Mike had a long afternoon nap, Steve read, Sandra made what she called a ‘dinner-in-one’ casserole for their dinner. Satisfied that both men were on the mend though still a long way from going back to work if she had the last say, she prepared to move home when Dan stopped by after work to pick her up, providing, of course, he wasn’t going to be tied up with an urgent case.

Steve had managed to get ahold of Tanner and described Daryl Tyler, explaining that he and Lessing would have to visit the encampment under the bridge after dark, a rather less than inviting proposition. They had also agreed that should Tanner be successful, he would try to arrange for a daytime meeting with Tyler as soon as possible. With his new marching orders, Tanner promised to get word to Steve as soon as he had any news to impart.

Dan Healey showed up shortly after 6, and all four enjoyed a companionable meal in Steve’s bedroom, the sergeant bringing his colleagues up to speed on the various ongoing investigations. And then, with the promise that the still recovering partners would continue their rest and rehabilitation, and that neither would attempt to leave the apartment for at least the next two days, a concession that Mike had a harder time agreeing to, the Healeys packed up to head home.

As Mike saw them to the door, thanking Sandra profusely for her care and kindness towards both he and his partner, Healey lingered behind as his wife headed down the short switchback stairs to their car. He leaned closer to his boss, his voice quiet and conspiratorial. “Mike, ah, just in case you… you know, decide to come in to the office, or leave the apartment here to go talk to a witness or… you know, something like that… Well, ah, my wife knows everybody in our department, you know that, right?…. And, ah, not just in our department… she’s got spies everywhere.” His commiserating smile was eerie and Mike’s brow furrowed even more. “I, ah, I wouldn’t chance it, if I were you, you know what I mean?”

Mike’s fearful blue eyes slid from his sergeant’s concerned scowl to the beaming face of his wife sitting in the passenger seat of their car as she looked up at him and waved pleasantly. He swallowed heavily then nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I understand…” He raised his right hand and attempted a smile as he waved. “Ah, thanks for the warning…” He looked back at Healey and nodded.

Still frowning in concern, Healey turned, his face breaking into a smile as he faced his wife and jogged down the stairs. Mike watched as they drove off then slowly closed the door, giving his colleague’s words serious consideration.

# # # # #

Tanner called first thing in the morning to let Steve know he and Lessing had had no luck locating Daryl Tyler. Their presence under the bridge had been met with suspicion and skepticism, and even raising the spectre of their affiliation with Mike and Steve did nothing to alleviate the reluctance to cooperate. Tanner had the feeling that race may have played a factor; even though there were many homeless people of colour, black police officers were still met with mistrust.

Promising his colleague that he and Lessing would keep an eye out for Tyler, and reminding him that they had their own cases to work, Tanner hung up. Mike, who had been hovering at the base of the stairs since the phone rang, appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised. Steve had just started to relay the information, or lack thereof, when the doorbell rang, accompanied by a knock. 

After sharing a surprised look, not expecting any visitors, Mike headed back down the stairs and opened the door onto a very concerned Olsen. “Well, you’re looking a lot better than I was expecting,” the captain growled good-naturedly as he shouldered his way past the taller man into the apartment, his eyes scanning the small living room for the other occupant. 

“What were you expecting?” Mike asked with a confused frown as he closed the door.

Olsen shrugged with a chuckle. “I don’t know, you sprawled out on the sofa, sound asleep and looking like shit…”

“Gee, thanks a lot,” the lieutenant grumbled good-naturedly, gesturing at the couch for the other man to sit. “So what can I do for you, Rudy?”

The older man glanced up the staircase, ignoring the invitation. “Steve upstairs?”

“Yeah… why?”

“Well, I’d like to talk to you both, if that’s okay.”

Frowning suspiciously, Mike nodded before starting up the stairs, the captain in his wake.

“Look who the cat dragged in,” Mike said under his breath as he walked into the bedroom and Olsen shot him a dagger before smiling at Steve. 

“Well, you’re looking pretty good too. How are you feeling?”

“Rudy,” Steve acknowledged with a chuckle. “I’m doing great, thanks. Much better.” 

“Well, that’s good. Look, ah,” he began, glancing at them both and settling on Steve, who seemed to be the more receptive one, he cleared his throat. “I just stopped by to see how you were both doing and to tell you, well, to order you,” he emphasized the word lightly, “to take the next ten days off on medical leave.”

“Rudy -“ Mike began, the edge in his voice audible already but the captain cut him off. 

“No arguments, Mike, I’ll pull rank if I have to. I’ve already talked to Conden and the Chief about it and it’s unanimous. After what you two went through at the warehouse, it’s a wonder you’re both still alive and functioning. Well, we want it to stay that way, and if that means we lose you both for the next ten days, then so be it.” He glared at Mike. “And it’s not a request, it’s an order, and if I have to have the Chief call you, I will.” He paused to let the impact of the words sink in. “Do I make myself clear?”

There was a long beat of tense silence then Mike muttered. “We have ongoing cases -“

“Which can wait,” Olsen interrupted. “I know you have those homeless murders, and we all want them solved, of course, but it’s not like it’s a red hot case right now and it can be put on hold until you two return. Right now the health of my officers is more important, period. Understood?”

Mike was staring at the floor and the others could see his deep breaths as he digested what they had just been told. After what seemed like an endless silence, he finally raised his head but didn’t say anything. Olsen looked at him kindly. “Isn’t, ah, isn’t Jeannie coming home in a few days?”

Mike’s lips twitched but he didn’t say anything right away. Then he nodded slightly and exhaled loudly.

“Well then you’ll get to spend some… quality time with her, won’t you?” the captain chuckled easily, knowing the hump had been overcome and he had managed to diffuse the situation before it had a chance to escalate.

After brooding for several seconds more, Mike growled, “Can we at least make phone calls?”

Olsen grinned. “As many as you want… just as long as I don’t hear about you showing up at the office or out on the streets.” Beaming, he looked from one to the other then at his watch. “Ah, listen, ah, I gotta get to the Hall. Big meeting with the Chief of D’s this morning; we’re still playing catch-up after the ‘quake. I’m glad you’re both doing better, enjoy the time off, and we’ll see you in ten days.” Clapping his hands together as if putting paid to the whole discussion, he turned for the door, stopping Mike with an, “I can see myself out.”

When they heard the front door close, Mike turned to his partner, staring at him with a heavy sigh. Steve bit his bottom lip to cover a smile. “Do you think Sandra got to him?”

Mike snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s tough.”

Steve nodded gravely, both of them stifling soft chuckles. “Well, you were gonna take some time off to spend with Jeannie anyway…. At least now you won’t have to use annual leave.” He shrugged encouragingly, hoping to break through the funk that now seemed to envelop the older man.

Exhaling with a frustrated sigh, Mike ran his right hand over his face. “I know he’s right, that’s what bothers me.” He looked at the younger man and finally smiled. “Okay, so, we don’t seem to have much choice, so what do you want to do? I don’t want to leave you here alone for the next ten days but if you come to my place, you’re gonna have to sleep on the couch and I don’t think that’s a good idea so -“

“Mike,” Steve interrupted gently. When he got his partner’s full attention, he smiled enigmatically. “I, ah, I don’t really have to be alone for the next ten days…” He shrugged with an insouciant smile and Mike frowned slightly before he chuckled. 

“Oh yes, of course…. What was I thinking?”

Nodding, Steve chuckled, “She’s just a phone call away…”

“I bet she is…” They both laughed then Mike asked, feigning innocence, “So what you’re saying is, my continued presence here would be… cramping your style?”

“Well, my back is a lot better…”

The phone rang and they both jumped slightly, staring at it before Steve picked up the receiver. “Hello?” His eyes snapped up to meet his partner’s. “Yes, yes it is…. Yes, that’s right…. You have?… That’s great…. Yes, ah, yes, very much…. Yeah, I bet you are… Well, umh, yes. Yes, I would be honored to, yes…. Okay. Uhm, give me just a second to get a pen and something to write on.” He gestured frantically and Mike scrambled to find a small pad and pencil in the top drawer of the bedtable, then gave him a nearby paperback for something hard to write on. “Okay, go ahead…” The young man started to scribble frantically. “Yes… yes, thank you very much… Yes, I’ll be in touch. Thank you.” He hung up and looked at his partner. “That was the coroner’s office. They think they’ve identified the young woman from the warehouse. They’re just swamped with everything after the ‘quack… and they want to know if I would like to do the notification.”


	31. Chapter 31

Mike stared at him without moving for a long beat before he asked quietly, “Are they sure?”

Steve nodded softly, closing his eyes and looking down. “Yeah…”

The older man exhaled slowly and loudly. “So, what’s her name?”

Steve looked at the paper. “Janice Catherine Baker. She was 23. They found a driver’s license in the rubble.”

“An address?”

“Yeah… I’ve got it.” He indicated the paper. “But she obviously wasn’t living there anymore.”

Mike nodded. “Well, at least they got an identification. That’s a good thing, right?” He knew everything that was going through his partner’s mind. “So do they know where her family is?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. They just have her name and that old address, I guess. They didn’t give me any details but, ah, well, I said I’d be in touch…”

“Yeah, I heard. Listen, I know you want to help, to do something, but do you think you’re up for this right now? From the sounds of it, we might have to do a little digging to find her next of kin if they haven’t done that already. And it sounds like they haven’t.”

Steve smiled briefly to himself at his partner’s use of ‘we’; he knew it was deliberate, and he was grateful. He snorted softly. “Ah, well, Rudy did say we can have unlimited use of the phone…”

“Yes, he did,” Mike confirmed with a tiny smile, “and we both have connections in the police department, don’t we?”

“Yes, we do,” Steve mirrored the look. 

Mike looked at his watch, finally getting used to it being on his other wrist. Then he frowned, obviously thinking. 

“What?” Steve asked.

“Well, it’s not even noon yet. Why don’t you call them back and tell them I’m gonna drop by and pick up what they have, even if it’s just the driver’s license, and then you and I can start making phone calls. What do you think?”

“I’d like that,” the younger man said quietly, “but how are you gonna sneak into the Coroner’s Office without anybody seeing you. It’s not like no-one knows who you are, and you’re walking into the lion’s den, so to speak.”

Mike chuckled. “Leave that to me.” He pointed at the phone. “Call them back and tell them to put everything they have, even if it’s just the license, in an envelope, put my name on it and leave it with the guard at the door. I know them all,” he rolled his eyes with a snicker, “and I’ll be able to dash in and out and get it without anybody seeing me. Besides, I’m not going to wear a suit or my hat so I’ll be fine.”

Laughing softly, Steve picked up the receiver. “Well, if you get caught, don’t implicate me in your little plot. One of us has to survive to fight another day.” He started to put his finger in the rotary dial then stopped, looking up at his partner with a surprised frown and a snort. “I just realized I know what the internal number for the morgue is but I have no idea what the outside number is. Do you?”

Mike made a face and shrugged. “I’ll get the phone book.”

# # # # #

Less than an hour later the front door opened and closed and Mike, wearing a black windbreaker and a Giants baseball cap, climbed the stairs to the second floor. He had a small manila envelope in his hand. His expression unreadable, he crossed to the bed and held it out.

Steve looked at it then up at his partner. “You didn’t open it?”

Mike shook his head. “It’s your case,” he explained softly.

With a soft nod, the younger man took the envelop and flipped the flap up. He blew into the top to pop it open then tilted the contents out into his right hand; there was only the California driver’s license. The plastic case was scuffed, bent and dirty but the paper license inside was in good condition. He stared at the coloured picture staring back at him. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, then looked up at his partner. “Yeah… that’s her,” he said softly.

Nodding slightly, Mike rested his right hand on the younger man’s shoulder and squeezed. “Okay… so, ah, what do you think we should do first?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. And I think we should check out this address. If she was there long enough to use it for her license, then maybe her landlord or a neighbor will remember her and maybe they can tell us where she’s from or something else useful.”

“Makes sense to me.” Mike cleared his throat. “You do know, of course, that means both of us… leaving the house…” He waved his hands vaguely, trying not to smile.

Steve nodded. “Yes, it does… but can you think of another way to do this?” It was a give-and-take routine they liked to play, especially when the stakes were high and emotions would no doubt come into play.

“Not off the top of my head, no, but, to play devil’s advocate, we were told we couldn’t work on our homicide cases, by Rudy, and I was warned by Dan that Sandra would somehow know if we went to the office or were following up on leads or witnesses, in our homicide cases…. You get my drift here…?”  
“That this isn’t a homicide case?”

“Exactly.”

“Nice hair-splitting there, Lieutenant.”

Mike took a slight bow. “Thank you. My career has been built on hair-splitting, if you didn’t know by now.” He smiled warmly. “Come on, I’ll help you get dressed and down to the car.”

Shaking his head, Steve looked at the clock/radio on the bedside table. “You do realize it’s been less than two hours since Rudy was here reading us the riot act and you’ve already been to the Hall and back and we’re going out again?”

“And your point is…?” Mike asked facetiously.

# # # # #

The blue sedan pulled to the curb on Diamond near 29th. The pale gray stucco four-storey apartment building they were looking for was on the corner. Steve got out of the passenger side carefully, relieved when he was finally erect. Mike had jogged around the car to give him a hand but he was already out.

There were eight apartments in the building; Mike pushed the button for #1, hoping it might be the superintendent. But to be honest, in the middle of a weekday, they were just hoping someone would be home.

The door opened on a middle-aged balding man with a 49ers t-shirt over an ample gut; the smell of cigar smoke hung in the air around him. He looked at the two casually dressed men, one in a Giants ball cap, standing on his stoop with a jaundiced eye. “Yeah?”

Smiling, Steve reached into his sports coat pocket and took his badge out; Mike did the same. “Inspector Keller. This is Lieutenant Stone. Would you happen to be the super here, Mister…?”

“Hefner. And yeah, I am. Why are ya askin’?”

Taking a deep breath, Steve took the driver’s license out of his pocket and held it up. “We were wondering if you could tell us about Janice Baker.” Hefner squinted at it the license then reached out to take it. Steve pulled it back out of his reach. “Do you know her?”

With a brief angry frown, the super met Steve’s stare. “Yeah, I know her. She lived in 4 for almost a year. Why?”

“When was she here?” Steve asked, ignoring the question.

“She moved out about, I don’t know, five, six months ago.”

“Do you know why?”

Hefner shrugged. “Maybe she got tired of her husband beatin’ the shit out of her, I don’t know.”

Steve felt Mike stiffen behind him. “She was married?”, the lieutenant asked.

Hefner looked past Steve to the older, taller man. “Yeah,” he grunted, like they should’ve know that. 

“Is he still here?”

“Nah, he moved out just after she did. He couldn’t pay the rent, the deadbeat…”

“What’s his name, do you remember?” Steve had taken his notebook and pen out of his pocket and flipped it open. 

“‘Course I remember. I kept havin’ to repair the holes he punched in the damn walls all the time. Baker. Kenny Baker.”

“You wouldn’t, by any chance, have a picture of him, would you?” Steve knew it was a stupid question but he had to ask. 

Hefner’s thick brows knit and his mouth dropped open. “Yer kiddin’ right? What the hell would I have a picture of him for?” He shot a derisive look at Mike, who stared back impassively.

Clearing his throat, Steve looked down at the notebook. “Can you give us a description of him?”

The super shrugged. “Ah, he was about your height I guess. Skinny. Dark hair, longer than yours. Moustache. He’s got a spiderweb tattoo on the inside of his left forearm.” He shrugged. “He might have tattoos in other places but I didn’t see ‘em.”

Despite himself, Mike swallowed a smile.

Steve, who was busy writing, glanced up at Hefner. “And you said he has a temper?”

“A temper? He’s a f$#%ing psychopath, if you ask me. I wasn’t the only one that was happy when he left.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“No,” Hefner stared at him, his voice dripping sarcasm, “we weren’t that close…” He rolled his eyes.

Steve looked up, pinning the superintendent with an icy glare. “By any chance,” he asked slowly and pointedly, “would you know where Janice Baker was from?”

Hefner stared at him, suddenly twigging to the fact that these were not just questions about domestic abuse. “What’s this all about?”

Both detectives stared at him for a tense second then Steve took a breath. “Mrs. Baker was killed in the earthquake.”

The super froze, his florid face turning pale and he flinched slightly, grabbing the doorframe. His stricken eyes looked from one cop to the other. “The kids… her little kids…?”

Steve shook his head quickly. “No no, they’re fine, they survived. We’re trying to locate her family so they can take custody of the children.”

“Oh my god,” Hefner muttered, looking down, all the bluff and bluster evaporating. “They’re such cute kids… and she really loved them…” He seemed genuinely bereft. When he finally looked back up, his eyes were moist. He shook his head. “I… I can’t help you, I’m sorry…” he said quietly. “But there’s a young lady in Number 3… Katie Porter. I think they were friends.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you.” He began to take a step back but Hefner stopped him.

“Ah, she ain’t here right now. She’s at work. But I can give you her phone number, if that would help.”

“Yes. Yes, it would. Thank you very much.”

# # # # #

Steve was a little stiff and Mike a little tired by the time they walked through the front door of the apartment again. As he stripped off his windbreaker, Mike looked at his partner. “How are you doing?”

The younger man bobbled his head. “Not bad… Better than I thought.” He put a hand on the small of his back and stretched slightly. “What about you?”

Mike snorted a soft laugh. “Well, I could use a nap. I’m still not a hundred percent.” He sounded almost disappointed in himself and Steve smiled affectionately.

“Why don’t you do that and I’ll go upstairs and figure out how we should handle this. I might make a few phone calls.”

Mike nodded slowly as he crossed towards the couch. “That sounds like a good idea.” He sat heavily.

Steve started up the stairs then stopped and looked back. “Bobby’s funeral was yesterday, wasn’t it?” he asked softly.

Staring straight ahead, Mike nodded again. He inhaled deeply. “Yes, it was,” he said softly, “yes, it was…”

Neither man moved for several long seconds then, without another word, Steve climbed the stairs to the second floor.


	32. Chapter 32

It was almost 6 when Mike climbed the stairs to the second floor, still trying to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes; Steve looked up as he got to the doorway, staring in with raised eyebrows. The younger man had the phone on the bed beside him, the receiver stuffed under his left ear as he made notes on the yellow foolscap pad on his lap. Other loose papers were scattered around the bed.

The younger man raised a finger to forestall conversation, his eyes falling to a neutral position as he said quickly, “Yes, yes, I’m still here….” He started to write something again.

Mike continued on to the bathroom and when he returned, the phone had been hung up and Steve was co-ordinating his notes. 

He looked up with a smile as the older man entered the room. “How did you sleep?”

Mike shook his head as if still trying to wake himself up. “Really well, I’m assuming, seeing as it’s dinnertime already.” He gestured at the stack of papers with his chin. “What have you got there?”

Steve snorted almost happily. “A lot more information than I thought I’d get today, that’s for sure.” He glanced at the clock/radio then smiled at his partner. “I’m getting a little hungry, how about you?”

“Yeah.” Mike still looked sleepy but he perked up a bit. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Well, why don’t we find something for dinner and we can talk about this afterward.” He started to put the papers aside as if to get up.

The older man gestured for him to stop. “No no no, you stay here. I’ll fix dinner. I gotta wake myself up somehow,” he chuckled as he turned towards the door.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah… What do you want?”

Steve shrugged, already turning back to the pages. “I don’t care… something substantial would be great…”

“Substantial…?” Mike muttered under his breath as he started back down the stairs.

# # # # #

They enjoyed a hearty meal of spaghetti and meatballs, washed down with a Coke and a ginger ale and devoid of any shop talk, watching Walter Cronkite and catching up on the news of the world instead. Then, after the dirty dishes were ferried down to the kitchen, their attention returned to the matter at hand.

“So I made a few calls and got some of the information we need, and I should be able to get some more tomorrow morning,” Steve began, then looked at his partner with a furrowed brow. “When’s Jeannie coming home?”

“Ah, Sunday, day after tomorrow. Why?”

Nodding as he thought things through, Steve pursed his lips, looking back down at the pages in his lap. “Damn, I was hoping we could do it together,” he said almost under his breath.

“Do what together?”

Looking up, Steve took a deep breath. “Make the notification to Janice Baker’s family.”

“You know where they live?”

“Not yet.” Steve nodded almost sadly. “I’m hoping the neighbor can shed some light on where she’s from. But R&I does have a file on her and her husband - she called about a year and a half ago… domestic abuse. Her husband beat her up pretty bad when he found out she was pregnant again. They were both hauled in and interviewed, and then she refused to press charges.”

“Why?” 

Steve shrugged, sighing loudly. “Her file doesn’t say. But there’s a note in it that says they went to do a follow-up and she had left town for awhile. To visit her parents maybe? Anyway, I’ve left word for the patrolmen who answered the domestic abuse call to give me a shout when they can. I want to see if they can add anything that might not be in the file.” He shrugged with a sad smile, looked down at the papers, took another deep breath then looked up again. “I’ve been thinking about what the super said, about her leaving the apartment about six months ago. That baby’s about what? Seven, eights months old? So that means she left just after she gave birth.”

“Yeah, I was thinking that too. That husband of hers must’ve been making her life a living hell if she preferred living on the street with a toddler and a newborn.” Mike nodded at the pages in his partner’s lap. “When are you going to call the neighbor?”

Steve glanced at the clock/radio. “I didn’t want to call too early; I wanted to make sure she was home. Might as well do it now.” He picked up his notebook, found the number and stuffed the receiver under his ear as he dialed.

Without a word, picking up their two empty glasses and tucking one in the crook of his left elbow, Mike retreated to the kitchen for refills to allow Steve to make the call without him hovering. On the way back up the stairs on his first trip with refills, he could hear his partner’s side of what sounded like a very serious conversation and he slipped quietly into the room to place the glass of Coke on the nightstand and leave again. By the time he got back with his own glass, after puttering around the kitchen cleaning up and killing time, Steve had hung up, staring at the notes he had just made. “So?” he asked, dropping into a nearby chair.

“Well, Miss Porter had a lot to tell me…” He exhaled loudly. “And she was pretty broken up when I told her the reason for my call.”

“They were close?”

“Well, I don’t think they were best friends or anything like that, but from what she told me, Janice spent time with her when she was trying to stay away from her husband.”

“Stay away from him? Because he beat her a lot?”

“Because he’d come home drunk, and Katie said it was best to just stay out of his way when he did.”“Lovely…”

“Yeah, he sounds like a real peach.”

“So did Janice ever mention where she was from?”

“Well, Katie wasn’t sure, but she thought it was from upstate. She doesn’t remember exactly where but she does remember it had a hard ‘K’ sound in it.”

“A hard ‘K’ sound?” Mike frowned, puzzled.

“Yeah, like Eureka…?” He shrugged.

“Or Ukiah?” the older man offered and Steve bobbled his head.

“Could be…. Anyway, that’s all she remembers. We should be able to check out both of those cities - towns - whatever you want to call them, tomorrow with the phone books from the…” His voice faded out and he stared at his partner through narrowed eyes. 

Raising his eyebrows, Mike held up the first two fingers of his right hand in a ‘V’. 

Steve closed his eyes in frustration. “Yeah, I know - there’re two problems with that.” 

With a closed mouth smile, the lieutenant nodded. He folded his middle finger down so only the index finger was raised.

“One,” Steve began pedantically, “we don’t know what her maiden name is…” Mike nodded and raised his middle finger again, “and two, the phone books we need are in the office, where we can’t go…”

Mike made a fist. “Bingo.”

“Yeah… and we can add another problem to that, too.”

“What’s that?”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday…”

“… and everything’s closed. Well, everything we need.” Mike sighed. “And I can’t even throw my weight around and demand somebody come in to look up that information for us…” He looked at his partner and sighed heavily. “I don’t know about you but I’m feeling pretty useless right now… and frustrated…”

Steve, who had been staring unfocused at the papers on his lap, raised his head slowly. “I may have a… a way to get the information we need… without either of us having to leave the house…”

Just from the way his partner was talking, Mike had the feeling he knew where the rest of the revelation was going. With a smug smile, he leaned a little closer to the bed. “What’s her name?”

Startled that his partner had jumped to the right conclusion so quickly, Steve froze momentarily then tried to look confused and innocent. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, buddy boy, spill. Which one of the lovely young women in R&I are we talking about here?”

After a silent beat came a quiet, “Sally.”

“Sally? The blonde that sits in the far corner? The one that looks like Monroe?” With a smug grin, Steve nodded. “Whew,” Mike whistled, “I thought she was out of everyone’s league…”

“Well, we… dated… a couple of times just after I got out of the academy, so there was no way for you to really know that…”

“Ah, right…. Well, that’s good… ‘cause for a minute there I thought you were holding out on me…” They both chuckled. “So did you… part on friendly terms?”

“Oh yeah…”

Smiling, the older man nodded, impressed. “Well, good for you. And you still have her number?”

“Ah, yeah, somewhere…” Steve opened the small top drawer in the nightstand and rooted around, finally taking out a little black book.

Mike pointed at it with a curious frown. “Isn’t that a bit of a cliche?”

“Not when it contains what I want.” He flipped it open and began to scan through it quickly. He looked up with a grin which turned rapidly into an expectant stare.

It took the older man a second to clue in. “Ah, yes,” he sputtered quickly, starting to get up, “I, ah, I will take my leave and let you… ply your charms in privacy…” With a chuckle, he picked up his glass of ginger ale and sashayed to the door, pulling it closed behind him. 

Steve watched him go with an affectionate laugh, pulling the phone close and starting to dial.

# # # # #

A half hour later Mike ventured up the stairs again, pausing to listen outside the bedroom door before he knocked discreetly. “Yeah, come on in.”

Steve was waiting for him with a big smile. 

“I take it from the Cheshire cat grin you were successful?”

“I was. She’s going to go into the office tomorrow morning and put together what she can on both Janice and Kenny Baker. And then she’ll give me a call.” He sobered slightly. “When I told her what it was about, she jumped at the chance to help.”

“Good.” Mike’s smile disappeared as well. “It’s a good thing what you’re doing here, you know that, right?”

“Right now it feels like the only thing I can do.”

“Well, it’s a lot, believe me.” Mike exhaled loudly. “Look, ah, I think we’ve both done enough for today… so why don’t we watch a little mindless TV then call it a night.”

“Sounds good to me,” Steve agreed, beginning to pick up the papers lying all over the bed.  
“Listen, ah, if we get the information on Janice Baker’s family tomorrow morning, and depending on how far away they are, do you want to make the notification tomorrow?”

Mike picked up the phone and put it on the nightstand. “Yeah… yeah, let’s do that.”

# # # # #

The older man looked across the front seat. It was a glorious late August day and the sun was streaming through the windshield as the blue sedan shot up the 101; both of them were wearing sunglasses, and dressed as they would for a normal day of work. 

Steve had gotten the call from his friend in R&I shortly after 11; she had been successful. And now, armed with the Ukiah address of Janice Williams parents, they were heading north, with the unenviable task of informing them of their daughter’s death. And with the hope that they were willing, and able, to fight for custody of their grandchildren, should the father demand his parental rights.

It had all the earmarks of the beginning of a very emotional day.


	33. Chapter 33

Ukiah was right on the 101, which was convenient, and the house on Church Street was easy to find. The one-storey beige wood home with the large front porch and carport on the side was well-kept and appealing, it’s narrow front belying its depth. It was in the middle of a large two-acre lot surrounded by a chainlink fence and containing a garden with both flowers and vegetables. Washing was hung from a line stretched between two poles in the backyard.

Mike pulled the car to the shoulder a little ways down the road. As he turned off the engine, he looked across the front seat. “Are you ready for this?”

Steve looked at him expressionlessly then nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I am.” 

The older man smiled softly. “Okay. It’s all yours… you handle it any way you want. I’m just here for support, okay?”

His partner nodded. “Thanks.”

They both unconsciously took deep breaths as they opened their respective doors and got out. Steve reflexively patted the right pocket of his sports coat; he had Janice’s driver’s license and the morgue photo, which he would only show if he was asked. They fell into an easy step as they approached to door. 

The first thing they noticed was the large wooden cross on the front door. When they stepped up onto the porch, Mike gently touched his partner’s arm and gestured to their right, where at the far end of the porch stood a small white and pale blue statue of the Virgin Mary in a wooden shrine. 

Steve raised his eyebrows and sighed heavily through his open mouth as he rang the bell. They were both facing the door when a friendly looking middle-aged woman with her dark blond hair pulled back in a bun opened it with a confused smile. “Yes, may I help you?” she asked pleasantly.

“Are you Mrs. Williams?” Steve asked, flashing his own disarming smile, knowing in the next few minutes he was going to destroy this woman’s life.

Still smiling and confused, she nodded, “Yes… yes, I am. And you are -?”

They already had their badges in their hands. “I’m Inspector Keller, and this is Lieutenant Stone.” Mike nodded genially. “We’re with the San Francisco Police Department. Would it be possible for us to talk to you and your husband?”

At the mention of The City, her face fell, her eyes darting back and forth from one cop to the other. “Is this about Janice? Has something happened to Janice?”

“Is your husband here, Mrs. Williams?” Steve spoke over top of the frantic questions and her eyes snapped to his. “Is your husband here?”

She froze for a split second then nodded. “Yes, yes, he is…”

Steve smiled encouragingly. “I think it would be best if we talked to you both together.” He nodded past her towards the interior of the house and she looked uncertainly over her shoulder then nodded, turning away. “I’ll, ah, I’ll get him…. He’s, ah, he’s out the back…”

As she moved deeper into the house, they followed without waiting for an invitation, knowing one wouldn’t be forthcoming; Mrs. Williams’ mind was no longer on such simple formalities. She continued through the living room and on towards the kitchen, and presumably to the back door. They waited near the floral sofa. They could hear the creak of a screen door and her strained voice calling, “Malcolm!”

They looked at each other silently; both of them hated this part of the job, but they also knew how important it was, to be that stoic voice of concern and compassion.

The screen door slammed and a tall, lean man with a military style crewcut, wearing blue denim overalls and workboots, strode into the living room, scowling. “You’re here about Janice?” he spat out, dispensing, it seemed, with introductions.

With their badges still in their hands, Steve said, “Mister Williams, I’m Inspector Keller and this is -“

“What did Janice do now? Did that bastard of a husband beat her up again?”

There was an anger in his voice that they couldn’t pinpoint; was it aimed at his daughter or her husband? Were they even aware that their daughter was living on the streets?

“Mr. Williams,” Steve raised his voice slightly, meeting the fierce stare evenly, “I’m afraid it’s not that.” He gestured at the sofa. “If you and your wife would like to take a seat…?”

“I don’t need to take a seat,” Mr. Williams began angrily and his wife took his arm. 

“Malcolm, please…”

Glaring at her, he pulled his arm out of her grasp, but he did step to the recliner, almost throwing himself into it. Mrs. Williams sat on the end of the sofa close to her husband. Glancing at each other, Mike took the second armchair and Steve perched on the other end of the sofa. 

Steve took a deep breath to steady himself and had just opened his mouth when a young blond woman appeared from the hallway down which, they assumed, were the bedrooms, and crossed to stand behind her father’s chair. He froze almost imperceptibly, and knew immediately she had to be Janice’s younger sister.

“What’s going on?” She asked, her blue eyes snapping back and forth between the cops and her parents.

Mrs. Williams looked at her. “They’re from San Francisco, the police.”

“Has something happened to Janice?” the young woman asked quickly, frowning, staring at Steve.

Mrs. Williams smiled automatically. “This is Sheila, Janice’s little sister,” she told Steve and he met the blue eyes, nodding in recognition.

Taking another deep breath, he started again. “I’m afraid we have some bad news, Mr. and Mrs. Williams. Your daughter was, ah, she was in a building that collapsed during the earthquake last week… and I’m afraid she was killed in the collapse.” 

Mrs. Williams inhaled sharply, both hands flying up to cover her mouth and her eyes widening in shock; Sheila gasped, both hands gripping the back of the back of the recliner, her knuckles turning as white as her face. Mr. Williams clenched his jaw but showed no other reaction.

“Her children! What about her children?” Mrs. Williams suddenly wailed, her eyes pleading for a response.

Steve began to nod. “They’re okay, they survived… and they’re unhurt,” he got out quickly. “They’re with a foster family right now -“

“A foster family?” Williams strong voice cut him off. “Why aren’t they with that bastard husband of hers?”

And in that split second, both detectives knew their job was going to get a lot more difficult. Steve glanced at his partner then faced the father. “Ah, Mr. Williams, Janice wasn’t living with her husband. She was living in a warehouse on one of the piers -“

“A warehouse? What do you mean a warehouse?” When neither cop was immediately forthcoming, his brow furrowed even more and the timbre of his voice dropped. “You mean she was living on the street, wasn’t she?”

After a brief second, Steve nodded softly.

“What else was she doing?” Janice’s father demanded. “Was she whoring herself on the streets as well?”

Both detectives reacted, though subtly enough that the Williams’ family wouldn’t have noticed; that was not a response either of them had been expecting. Steve began to shake his head. “Mr. Williams, we have to reason to believe that your daughter -“

“She’s not my daughter anymore,” Williams spat the words out as he lurched to his feet. “She stopped being my daughter when she got pregnant and married that bastard and we’ll have nothing to do with the spawn of that coupling. Never!” Glaring at the two detectives, he turned and strode from the room in a controlled rush. Everyone heard the heavy footfalls cross the kitchen and the slam of the screen door. 

The detectives looked at Mrs. Williams. She had taken a tissue from a nearby box and was holding it to her mouth. Tears had begun to run silently down her cheeks. 

Steve reached out and laid a gentle hand on her forearm. “Mrs. Williams…” he began softly.

“Malcolm never liked Kenny… never…” She was staring into space, her gaze unfocused, her voice almost inaudible. “I think Janice married him for spite… I really do…”

Mike glanced up at Sheila; she was still holding onto the back of the chair, her complete focus on her mother.

“You see, Janice got pregnant when she was just nineteen… My husband thought she was still a virgin… that she’d be a virgin on her wedding day…” She paused, clutching the tissue even tighter. “An abortion was out of the question, of course… and Janice flaunted her pregnancy to spite her father…. After the baby was born, Janice and Kenny moved to The City. That was the last time her father saw her… when she came to say goodbye and rub everything in his face…”

Her eyes focused and she looked at Steve. “You said the children are alive?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, they are. With a foster family. But we would like for them to be reunited with their own family…”

“Where’s Kenny?” Sheila asked, looking from one cop to the other. “And why was she living on the street?”

“Well, from what we’ve learned, about six months ago, Janice moved out of the apartment she shared with her husband after he beat her… and he moved out shortly after and no one knows where he is.” He paused slightly. “But from everything we’ve heard about him, well, it doesn’t sound like he’d make a very good father, or role model, for those children… and we were hoping that you and your husband -“

“Oh, that’ll never happen,” Mrs. Williams interrupted him. “That’ll never happen. You heard my husband, those children are… demon spawn in his eyes. He’s never met them and he never will.” Her face crumbled and the silent tears flowed a little faster, then she met Steve’s eyes.  
“How did my Janice die?” Her voice was soft and his heart broke a little more.

He touched her arm again. “She was on the top floor of a warehouse that being used as a shelter for homeless women and children. She was killed by falling concrete blocks. She died protecting her children…”

“Did she suffer?”

He shook his head slowly. “No, ma’am, no, she didn’t. It was quick…”

“You were there?”

“Yes, ma’am… yes, I was….”

Mike looked at him with a soft, proud smile. He knew Steve wouldn’t blow his own horn, and he admired him all the more for it. Mrs. Williams looked in his direction and gestured at his cast with her chin. “Were you there too?”

Mike smiled softly and nodded. “Yes, I was.”

“It must have been awful…”

Steve nodded. “Yes, it was. A lot of people lost their lives…”

Mrs. Williams took a deep breath. “What’s going to happen to her body?”

“Well, ah,” Steve began, glancing at Sheila, “we can arrange to have it transported here… if you want?”

Mrs. Williams began to nod, staring into space, trying to truly understand everything she had been just be told, and trying to comprehend how much her life had changed since these men walked through her door only moments ago. “Yes… yes, I’d like that…” she said so softly they could barely hear her.

Steve reached into his coat pocket and took out one of his business cards. He held it out. “Mrs. Williams, we are so very sorry for your loss, and if there is anything we can do…”. He touched her arm gently once again. “Please… please feel free to call me at any time…”

Almost automatically, she smiled as she took the card. ‘Thank you…” she whispered.

Mike got to his feet and Steve followed a split second later. Sheila had moved from behind the recliner to a nearby bureau and had busied herself with something. Steve leaned closer to Mrs. Williams and said softly, “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Staring into space, still clutching what was left of the tissue to her mouth, she nodded vaguely.

Steve glanced at Mike and the two men made their way to the front entrance, Sheila trailing behind them. They had just stepped out onto the porch when Sheila reached out to Mike and stuffed a piece of paper into his hand. After a furtive glance over her shoulder, she leaned closer to him and whispered, “Meet me there,” she nodded at paper, “in half an hour.” She stepped back into the house and closed the door.


	34. Chapter 34

They were sitting in adjacent chairs at a small table in the far corner of the large, almost empty diner on Perkins Street, nursing large mugs of coffee. The visit with the Williams’ family had been deeply disturbing for both men and conversation had been at a premium since they had returned to Mike’s car and made the short drive to the diner.

The bell on the glass front door jingled and they looked up to see Sheila Williams, wearing a denim jacket, her purse slung over her shoulder, enter rapidly, locating them and crossing to their table. She pulled out a chair and sat quickly. “Thanks for meeting me,” she got out in a rush as she dropped her purse to the floor and stuck her right hand out towards Steve. “Sheila.”

Unable to resist a quick smile, Steve shook her hand. “Inspector Keller… ah, Steve,” he introduced himself as he shook her hand briskly before she turned her startling blue eyes on his partner.

With a warm smile and nod of his own, Mike shook her hand. “Lieutenant Stone, but you can call me Mike.”

She nodded firmly, looking up as the waitress approached the table. “Can I get a chocolate milkshake, Doris? Thanks.” She pinned Steve with an uncompromising stare and exhaled almost angrily, then closed her eyes, as if trying to get her emotions under control. When she finally opened them, she asked, “Is my sister really dead?”

With a soft sigh, Steve nodded. “I’m afraid so.”

Her face crumpled momentarily and she looked down at the table, shaking her head slowly. “I always thought it would be her husband that woulda killed her, not some damn earthquake…” She slumped back in the chair, leaving her hands on the table. 

“Did he always beat her?” Mike asked quietly.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she nodded softly without looking at him. “Kenny’s a real bastard.”

“Is he the father of both of the children?” Steve asked gently and her eyes snapped up to meet his.

“Yes,” she growled almost defensively, then looked away and shrugged slightly. “Well, she told me he was.”

“Your father…” Mike began carefully, “he’s really disowned your sister?”

Sheila looked at him with a sad smile. “Oh yeah, that wasn’t an act. He ‘disowned’ her when she left home to go to San Francisco with Kenny. And he means it too. My father has, ah… fundamentalist beliefs, I guess you could call it.”

“So he’d rather see Janice’s children, his own grandchildren, be raised by this man he hates instead of raising them himself?” Mike was having a hard time wrapping his head around this unimaginable concept.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a man of principle, my father,” she spat out bitterly. 

“I don’t understand that,” Mike said softly, staring at his coffee cup.

She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and compassion. “I don’t either.”

The waitress approached the table with the milkshake and conversation paused while they waited for her to retreat out of earshot once again.

“Listen, ah,” Steve began, leaning forward, “what can you tell us about Kenny. All we know is he’s from here… and his parents are dead?”

“Yeah, they were killed in a car accident when he was fifteen. I think that’s one of the reasons he went so wild. He was hurting, though he wouldn’t admit it, and he just didn’t give a shit. He and Janice had been going out since they were about twelve, thirteen… and I think she loved him, at least at first, you know, before he went all mean and angry…” She looked down at the table and shook her head sadly. “I think she thought she could change him.”

Both detectives nodded slightly, well aware of that sometimes fatal phenomena. Eventually Steve asked, “So do you think Kenny would want custody of his kids?”

She looked up and shrugged, stirring the milkshake with the straw. “I have no idea. ]I haven’t seen him for over a year.” She smirked. “We’re not a close family, if you get my drift.”

“A year?” Mike picked up on the statement, frowning. “Did they come here to see you and your folks?”

“Oh god no, my father wouldn’t allow that. No, I went to visit her in The City. And Kenny made it painfully obvious I wasn’t welcome then or anytime in the future. So we just talked on the phone after that.”

“Did they seem to be getting along?”

“If you mean, did she have any fresh bruises, of course she did,” Sheila stated matter-of-factly. “And I told her to leave him. But she wouldn’t listen to me; what did I know, right?” She snorted sharply then sobered and sighed sadly. “Well, I guess she finally did.” There was a brief pause and she stared at Steve with slightly raised eyebrows. “And just think, if she hadn’t left him, she’d still be alive.” She looked at them both with barely controlled anger and snorted again. “Irony, hunh?” She leaned over the milkshake and sucked on the straw.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the table then Mike asked softly, “Do you think there’s any chance your mother can convince your father to change his mind about the children?”

She stared at him without expression for several long seconds then shrugged slightly, leaning back in the heavy wooden chair. “I really don’t know… but I do know something that my parents don’t, and I definitely don’t want my father to find out.”

The detectives exchanged a look before Steve asked, “And what’s that?”

Sheila looked back and forth between them, her face unreadable, then she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. “Janice and Kenny never got married. It was all a… a sham to piss off my father. And it worked.”

Both of them frowning, the partners exchanged a stunned glance. “They were never married?” Steve asked, thrown.

“Nope.”

“But her I.D.? We have her driver’s license -“

“Oh come on… It’s really easy to get stuff like that. Nobody asks for a marriage license when they issue I.D., do they?”

The cops looked at each other and Mike shrugged slightly, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head in confirmation. 

“Janice thought it would make Kenny more… I don’t know, palatable to my father at first, and when that didn’t work, then she just rubbed it in his face.”

“But you’re sure the kids are Kenny’s?” Mike asked for another confirmation.

This time Sheila hesitated. “Like I said, that’s what Janice told me…” She swallowed hard and looked down, tears springing to her eyes for the first time. “But I don’t know… I really don’t know…” She raised both hands and put them over her eyes.

They gave her time to get herself under control. When she finally looked at them again, there was a soft smile on her lips. “She really loved those kids…” She inhaled deeply and let it out in a controlled exhale before she looked at Steve. “I’ll talk to my mother… maybe she can work on my father… but I wouldn’t keep my fingers crossed if I were you…”

# # # # #

They were almost halfway home by the time Mike looked across the front seat. “Did you notice she never called her father ‘Dad’?” he asked softly, his voice strained and sad.

Steve nodded. “Uhm-humh.”

The older man’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m gonna hug Jeannie when she gets home tomorrow and I might never let her go…”

# # # # #

“So what time does Jeannie get in again?” Steve asked as they got out of the car in front of the Union Street apartment.

“Just after noon. There’s no direct flights from St. Louis so she has to change planes in L.A. first. Why?” Mike slammed the door and wearily circled the car. The sun was just beginning to set and the air was getting chilly.

“Well, I was just thinking, instead of going home tonight, why don’t you spend the night here and go home first thing in the morning. You’ll have plenty of time before you have to get to the airport.”

Steve had begun to lead the way up the stairs. Mike followed with a soft, happy smile, gratified by the suggestion. After the emotional afternoon, the older man had no desire to spend the evening alone, even though they had already decided he would return home that night.

“Well, I am a little beat,” he confirmed. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Well,” Steve said with a chuckle, reaching into his pocket for his keys, “I think we’ve been very good the past couple of weeks. And you’re going to be eating healthy for the next week or so while Jeannie’s here… so, want to call for a pizza?”

Mike chuckled as he followed his partner through the open door. “You read my mind.”

# # # # #

It had been a quiet evening, both of them spent, physically and emotionally. Steve had taken a quick soak in epsom salts while Mike had a nap then they called for the pizza, watching a couple of the hit comedy show reruns on CBS while they ate but not finding them particularly funny. They had retired before 10, though sleep proved elusive to them both for many hours.

When Steve finally woke, the sun was streaming in around the curtains. He stretched carefully, his lower back protesting the exertions of the previous day, and knew he would have to take it easy for the next couple of days to avoid a set-back, which was the last thing he wanted. They still had the murders of the homeless men to solve, which unfortunately had been put on the back burner, albeit temporarily.

He rolled over carefully, pulling off the blanket and starting to sit up when he saw the note laying on top of his clock/radio. He picked it up, frowning, instantly recognizing his partner’s handwriting. ‘Steve, Couldn’t sleep, got up early and went home. Take it easy and I’ll talk to you later. M.’

# # # # #

“Well, we’re going to have to go for a huge grocery shop tomorrow, I see.” The fridge door was open and Jeannie was staring in with a furrowed brow. As she closed the door she glanced over at the kitchen table, where her father was sitting quietly, both hands wrapped around a coffee cup and staring in her direction with a slightly furrowed brow. 

She studied him for a long moment, knowing that the uneasy feeling she’d detected when he picked her up at the airport was more than just temporary melancholy. She took a step towards him. “Mike…?”

He looked up, raising his eyebrows questioningly. 

“What’s wrong?”

A smile sprang to his face, one she knew only too well. It was the phoney smile that only made an appearance when he was trying, usually unsuccessfully, to hide something. “What?”

She moved closer to him. “I said, what’s wrong?”

Still smiling, he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking about how happy I am that you’re finally home but, you know, that you’re going away again so soon.”

She smiled warmly. “Oh, I know,” she purred, stepping to his side and running a hand comfortingly up his back. “I’m sorry…”

He snorted and shook his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m proud of you…. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I know you do,” she rubbed his back, “but that’s not what’s bugging you.” When he frowned, she pinned him with a stare and her hand stopped moving. “I know you, Mike… and missing me is not what has you all upset.”

He glared at her for several long seconds then closed his eyes, and she knew he was surrendering. “All right,” he said, nodding once as he climbed slowly to his feet, putting his good arm across her shoulders. “Let’s go into the living room and get comfortable.” She put her arm around him and they left the kitchen. When they were settled on the couch, she leaned into him and he pulled her close.

She could hear the comfortingly steady beat of his heart as she laid her head against his chest. “Has this got something to do with the earthquake?” she asked and felt his arm tighten around her.

“Yeah,” he answered softly, “but not in the way you might think….”


	35. Chapter 35

They sat together on the sofa well into the evening as Mike told his daughter about Steve and Janice Williams and her two children. He left nothing out. When he had finished, they sat in silence for a long time, both of them lost in their own thoughts. 

She had closed her eyes, listening to his heart, feeling his breaths, once more keenly aware of how incredibly lucky she was to have this remarkable man as her father. 

Eventually she reached out and put her hand over the fingers of his left hand then looked up into his face. “You haven’t told me how you broke your wrist,” she said softly.

He looked down at her. “Yes, I did. I told you I broke it in the earthquake.”

She pursed her lips and glared at him. “Yes, I know that,” she began pedantically, “but… how? You didn’t tell me how.”

“Well, the ceiling came down and something hit my arm as it fell.”

Her brow furrowed. “An entire ceiling came down and you only got hit on the arm?” Skepticism was beginning to creep into her tone.

“Umh-humh,” he nodded.

“Really?”

“Really.”

She knew he wasn’t telling her everything, and that he probably never would for some reason. But she also knew if he was keeping something from her it was for a reason, and even though she was his daughter and his flesh and blood, he had every right to do so. 

And she also knew that he was here, beside her, alive and well, with only his left wrist in a cast, and for that simple reason she wouldn’t press him any further. 

She laid her head against his chest again and they sat quietly for several more minutes before she pulled away from him slightly again and looked up. “So I was thinking, why don’t we pick up a really nice roast tomorrow and I’ll cook a pot roast tomorrow night and we can ask Steve to come over. Do you think he can handle the stairs?” 

He was staring down at her with a loving smile. “Yeah… yeah, he can handle the stairs. And I’m sure he’d love to come over for your pot roast.”

“Good. And speaking of eating, mister, why don’t you stay here and I’ll whip us up something for dinner. You must be starved.” She pushed herself up to kiss him then got up and padded into the kitchen. 

He laid the back of his head against the couch and closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about Malcolm Williams and the unconscionable contempt he had for his own daughter, and he knew if he lived to be a hundred he could never understand how a man could turn against his own child.

He listened to Jeannie moving around in the kitchen and a smile lit his face, the swell of pride almost taking his breath away. And he knew just how lucky a man he truly was.

# # # # #

“Hello?”

“Steve? It’s Bill.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I found him.”

“Found who? Oh, Daryl Tyler?” 

“Uh, yeah, that’s who you wanted us to find, right?” Tanner chuckled. Without waiting for a response, he continued, “So, you still want to talk to him?”

“Yes! Yes, I do. Sorry, it’s been a… a strange couple of days… Ah, where is he?”

“Well, he isn’t here with me, if that’s what you mean, but I know where to get him on very short notice. What do you want to do?”

Steve glanced at his watch. “Ah, listen, I just want to touch base with Mike on this first. Can you bring him around to my place in about a half hour?”

There was a short pause then Tanner said, “Ah, give me an hour?”

“No problem… See you then. Thanks.”

# # # # #

“So Daryl Tyler didn’t recognize either of the woman at all?” Mike asked he shuffled back to the table from the cutlery drawer and laid the knives on the cloth napkins folded beside the plates.

Steve, sitting at the kitchen table, one hand wrapped around a coffee cup, shook his head. “Margaret Jane Tolliver? Nope. He’d never seen her, he said, and he’s definitely sure it wasn’t the woman he saw with our John Doe #1. And he didn’t recognize that still unidentified red-haired woman that died at the warehouse either.” He exhaled loudly in frustration. “You know, I really hope we get an I.D. on him soon. It’ll make our lives a little easier…”

“Yeah, and we’ve got a number 3 now too, don’t forget,” the older man exhaled as he moved back to the counter to get the forks.

Jeannie, who was at the stove, glanced over her shoulder. “Three? You’ve got three victims?”

Her father nodded as Steve answered verbally. “Yep, three homeless men beaten and stabbed to death. Well, three that we know of.”

“That’s awful,” she commented as put the oven mitts on. “Do you have any suspects?”

Returning to the table with the forks, Mike made a face as he shook his head. Steve, after glancing at him, shrugged. “Not one. Your dad thinks it might be two killers, a man and a woman.”

Jeannie took the roasting pan out of the oven and set it on the rack on the counter. She glanced at Mike. “Why?”

Setting out three plates on the counter so she could fill them, he shrugged. “I don’t know, just a hunch, I guess.”

“Ah yes, but a Mike Stone hunch…” Steve began with a chuckle.

“… is worth its weight in gold,” she finished with a laugh and the older man shot them both a narrow-eyed glare and a smirk.

“Ha ha ha,” he growled good-naturedly as he stood near the plates, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

The two younger people laughed. As Jeannie moved the roast from the pan to the cutting board, she glanced over her shoulder. “So, are you two really going to take the next week off or not?”

They looked at each other expressionlessly then Mike shrugged as Steve stared at his coffee cup. “I guess that depends,” her father said enigmatically.

“What does that mean?” she asked as she picked up the carving knife and fork.

“Well, I guess that means… we’re gonna play it by ear,” he looked at his partner and Steve met his gaze without expression.

She sliced the roast in silence, remembering all that her father had told her the night before, knowing they were both working through not only surviving the earthquake but still coming to grips with the human toll it had taken, and was still continuing to take, on them and The City itself.

As she placed the generous slices of steaming hot beef on the plates, she glanced at them both. “Well, let’s just hope that doesn’t happen, because I want both of you completely healthy before you go back to work, that’s all.” She started to spoon the potatoes and vegetables onto the plates, surprised by the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. She felt her father step behind her, his right arm snaking slowly and carefully around her neck as he pulled her back against him and rested his chin on the top of her head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

# # # # #

“Hello?”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

It was an unusual salutation from his partner but it brought a smile to his face. “Uh, fine… ah, better than fine, actually. It’s been a… a very nice couple of days…”

“Do I detect that Pepe Le Pew insouciance again?”

“If by that you mean have I been spending time in Jennifer’s… company, then the answer is yes…”

Mike laughed. “Good for you. She, ah, she hasn’t set your recovery back any, has she?”

It was Steve’s turn to chuckle. “Not at all, not at all. As a matter of fact, I’m feeling pretty good.”

“Good… good…” the older man said slowly, dragging out the words.

“So how about you? What have you and Jeannie been up to?”

“Well, I took her out to dinner last night - L’Etoile.”

“Oooo, now that’s fancy.”

“Yes, it was. And expensive too, but it was worth it. But other than that, not much. Just relaxing. Listen, uh, the Giants are back in town on the weekend and we were wondering if you and Jennifer would be interested in going to the game with us on Friday night, and maybe going out for dinner beforehand?”

“I’ll have to ask her but that sounds like a good idea.”

“Does she like baseball?”

“Ah, I have no idea, the subject’s never come up.”

“Ah ha… okay, well, let me know.” 

There was an unusually awkward pause then Steve asked tentatively, “Is there something else?”

“Well, actually, seeing as you asked,” Mike answered quickly and the younger man smiled and chuckled, “ah, that night under the Bridge when you had your back problem, remember being told about all those abandoned houses that are being used as squats? Well, I put in a call to the Housing Authority a few days ago and forgot all about it, but they called me back this morning and they have a list for us.”

“A list of abandoned houses?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what, you want to start checking them out?”

There was a loud inhale on the other end of the line then a quick, “Yeah.”

“What? Now?”“No, not now,” Mike almost shouted then the volume of his voice dropped suspiciously, as if Jeannie was in earshot. “Not now…but maybe a little later in the week…”

“While Jeannie is still here? Won’t she be suspicious?”

“Well, I’m kind hoping I can get her to drive us.”

“Drive us? Are you kidding? Why?”

“Because that way she’ll be helping us so she’ll have no reason to complain… or worry… or nag.”

Steve knew it was the ‘nagging’ part that would bother his partner the most. He took a deep breath, making sure it was loud enough for his partner to hear, and took his time answering. “If you can get Jeannie to agree to this… this little folly -“

“Reconnaissance mission,” Mike offered helpfully.

“Folly,” Steve stressed, “of yours, then I’ll go along with you.”

“Great! So, ah, I’ll drop by the Housing Authority tomorrow and pick up the list. And don’t worry, I’ll go incognito again. No one’ll see me.”

“Why don’t you let Jeannie pick it up?”

“Because I was told they wouldn’t release the list to anyone but me - and before you ask, I have no idea why. Bureaucracy, I guess, I don’t know.”

Steve chuckled. “Okay, well, let me know when you want to do this.”

“How ‘bout the day after tomorrow?” Mike sounded way too eager and he knew the older man was going stir crazy being at home. As much as he loved his daughter and wanted to spend time with her, an unsolved case was like a burr under his saddle and he couldn’t completely relax until it was dealt with. He didn’t do time off, whether voluntary or not, well.

“Day after tomorrow works for me.”

“Great.”

“And I’ll ask Jennifer about the ballgame and get back to you on that.”

“Perfect. Okay, well, have a great day and I’ll talk to you later.” 

The line went dead. Steve took the receiver away from his ear, looked at it, and laughed.

# # # # #

Steve opened the back door of the blue sedan and slid in. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day, Jeannie Stone, when you’d be chauffeuring your father and me around town all day,” he laughed as he settled in and slammed the door.

The pretty brunette looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Hey, why not? When Mike explained what it was all about, that you just wanted to look at some abandoned houses to see if any homeless people are squatting in them, I thought, well, if it’ll help you guys eventually catch a killer, how can I say no? It gives me something useful to do, that doesn’t have anything to do with architecture, and I still get to spend time with my dad.” She looked at Mike across the front seat and grinned.

Her father grinned back. 

“So,” Jeannie said, shifting the sedan into drive, “where to first, Lieutenant?”


	36. Chapter 36

“Okay, so I made up a little list so we can do this in one big sorta circle in some kind of order…” Mike explained, lifting the papers in his hand high enough so Steve could see them from the back seat. “So our first stop will be Franklin near Broadway.”

“Okey-dokey,” Jeannie chuckled from the behind the wheel, glancing across the front seat with a grin. “What address exactly?”

“You don’t need to know that,” Mike retorted with a smile, taking his glasses off. “Like I told you before, you just drive us to the neighborhood, park… somewhere legal,” he heard Steve’s snort from behind, “and then you wait till we return. Remember?”

“Fine,” his daughter spit out with feigned annoyance as she turned the sedan onto Green Street, heading west. “It’s a good thing I brought a book,” she mumbled under her breath but loud enough for both of them to hear.

“So what are you reading?” Steve asked, his eyes darting back and forth between the two in the front seat, greatly amused.

“‘All The President’s Men’”, she called over her shoulder.

“Oh, man, I have to pick that up. I hear it’s really good.”

“I just started but I’m hooked already,” she giggled. “I can give you my copy when I finish. Which, who knows, might be today…?” She glanced slyly across the front seat at her father. “I guess it depends on how many houses you want to look at.”

He stared at her with a paternalistic smile. “Well, I’d like to look at all of them, which we could probably do if you would drive a little faster.”

Steve stifled a laugh and Jeannie took a second to glare at her father before they all felt the car pick up speed. Chuckling, Mike put his glasses back on and looked down at the list on the seat between them.

# # # # #

“Wow. Okay, ah, I wouldn’t think this place is abandoned, would you? I mean, if you just walked past it on the street, would you think it’s empty?” Steve asked his partner as they looked up at the impressive three-storey turreted Queen Anne.

They were standing on Franklin, trying not to look too obvious as they surreptitiously checked out the house in question and the ones beside it.

“Well, it needs a little work but, you’re right, it it sure doesn’t look abandoned. I doubt the front door’ll be open. Do you see a way around the back?”

They were casually dressed in mufti, blending in with the foot traffic, which was fairly high in this area of the downtown core. They wandered to the nearby corner, Mike bending down to pretend to read the headline of the Chronicle in the paper box while Steve took a stroll around the block. He reappeared a couple of minutes later, passing close to his partner and whispering sotto voce, “There’s a back alley.”

With one more glance back at the paper box, Mike trailed after his partner and they sauntered up the sidewalk towards the alley. Luckily there was no one on the street at that moment, and they ducked into the alley between the back of the homes and businesses and located the house they wanted by the paint job.

There was a short set of stairs to a backdoor which, even from the alley, they could see didn’t look right. With a glance at each other, they started up the steps, both of them reaching around to unsnap the holsters they were wearing on their belts at the small of their backs, under their jackets. They may not be on duty, but they weren’t reckless enough to go in unprepared.

Mike took a deep breath as Steve reached for the knob of the wooden door and turned it, neither of them surprised when it opened easily; the latch bolt had been removed. He had told Jeannie that he wanted to check out these houses during the day because the squatters wouldn’t be there until nightfall, so they would be empty. He had told her that to assuage her fear; he only hoped he was right, as neither he nor Steve was in any condition to confront anyone who objected to their unannounced arrival.

The door opened onto a spacious kitchen that, while still well-appointed, had seen better days and was now being used as little more than a garbage dump. For such a beautiful home, it was heart-breaking, and they both knew that things were probably going to get much worse the more they explored.

But one thing was certain: it was being used as a squat. They crossed quietly to the centre of the kitchen and stopped, both of them still, listening for any sound that would tell them they weren’t alone. After many long seconds, satisfied that they were but still opting for the silent approach, they made their way out of the kitchen into what was once a large dining room. If there had been a dining room table, it was there no longer. Instead, there were blankets and a couple of dirty sleeping bags lying haphazardly on the hardwood floor, incongruously under a breath-taking crystal chandelier.

Resisting the urge to turn it on, they continued through the house. The first floor also boasted a very spacious living room, divided from the dining room by a foyer where a gorgeous mahogany staircase led to the second and third floors. There were five bedrooms altogether, empty of furniture but full of blankets and sleeping bags. They weren’t sure how many people were squatting here, but it might possibly be close to twenty from what they could see.

Satisfied the place was empty, and also knowing they would have to make a return visit to canvas the squatters, they let themselves out the backdoor and returned to the car. Jeannie was very pleased to see them. She’d been having trouble concentrating on the book, as mesmerizing as it was, as she was worried about them, her frown turning into a relieved grin when she saw them turn the corner and head towards the car.

“So how much did you read?” her father asked as he opened the door and slid onto the front seat.

“Not as much as I thought I would,” she confessed as she slid the bookmark between the pages and put the closed book on the seat beside her. 

Mike looked at her with raised eyebrows; he knew what she wasn’t saying. “I told you everything’d be fine. There’s nobody home during the day. They’re all out pan-handling or running three-card monte scams…”

“Or prostituting…” Steve added from the back seat.

“Don’t they usually do that at night?” Jeannie asked, starting the engine and shifting into Drive.

“Mostly, but it’s a 24-hour occupation, believe it or not.”

“But in the morning… with a stranger…?” she almost whined, as if not believing the words that were coming from her own mouth.

Her father nodded almost apologetically. As Jeannie maneuvered the car out of the tight parking space, he frowned slightly as he put on his glasses and picked up the papers. His frown deepened as he looked up through the windshield. “Don’t you want to know where our next stop is?”

She grinned. “I already know. I read your list.”

# # # # #

The next three houses were away from the downtown core, one of them completely empty, the other two showing signs of moderate squatting. Mike put a check mark beside the ones they needed to revisit.

The fifth house was an old, very tall, massive three-storey Eastlake that should have been a stunner but had definitely seen better days. Compared to its neighbours it was an eyesore, especially with ’Uninhabitable’ and ‘No Trespassing’ notices tacked to the front door. The dark blue paint was peeling in large curly chunks, and the millwork broken and missing in places. But the beauty it once was could still be seen.

It was in the middle of the block, and both men were getting tired, physically and procedurally, of trying to find the back doors for surreptitious access. Almost as one, they glanced up and down the not-so-busy street then looked at each other and, with barely imperceptible nods, climbed the flight of wooden stairs to the large porch.

They were mostly hidden from the neighbours and the street by the time they got to the large double front doors. Mike tried the knob and, surprisingly, the door opened easily. He glanced back at Steve and raised his eyebrows as he pushed it open. There was a very loud squeak. He winced at the sound as he stepped into the spacious foyer; if anyone was inside, he had just announced their presence. 

Even though it was just approaching noon on a sunny day, the size of the house, and its equally imposing neighbours, didn’t allow much sunlight to penetrate the large windows, most of which were covered with newspaper anyway, adding the overall gloom.

Mike found the panel of lightswitches beside the front door and flipped them all but nothing happened; as expected, the electricity had been shut off. He stepped deeper into the entrance hall, allowing his partner to enter behind him, then shut the door with another cringe-inducing screech.

They stood in the gloom, allowing their eyes to adjust, looking around. Whatever furniture, if any, that had been here was gone, and the wallpaper was peeling or missing altogether in places. Directly in front of them, a large, ornate staircase led to the second floor; there were vaulted entranceways on both sides of the foyer and, after several long seconds, able to see better, they nodded at each other and split up, Mike going right, Steve left.

Mike stepped into a large but empty dining room. There was garbage on the floor but no blankets or sleeping bags. The stench of rotting fruit hung in the air. There was a door at the far end and he headed for that.

Steve ended up in a large empty living room, highlighted by a huge stone fireplace against the side wall. There was a fairly large pile of black ash in the fireplace and garbage, mostly soda cans and pizza boxes, strewn everywhere. There was also the remains of needles, a couple of spoons with very blackened bowls, and a half-dozen thick, half-melted candles standing on plates or directly on the stone hearth. The repellent smell of body odour and urine hung in the air.

He found a door against the same wall as the entrance and opened it, finding himself in the overwhelmingly filthy kitchen. As he picked his way carefully across the garbage-strewn floor, he stared at his partner, who was standing in front of the fridge with the door open. The older man looked at him as he approached and quickly closed the door. “You don’t want to look in there - it’s not a pretty sight.” He shuddered theatrically and Steve inhaled as he laughed, regretting it instantly as the smell of rotting food hit him square in the face and his stomach heaved.

Mike gestured towards the door to the dining room with his head and they worked their way back to the foyer. As he reached for the bannister to start up, he glanced back at Steve and froze. The younger man was standing exceptionally straight, his chin up and eyes closed, his right hand pressed against the small of his back.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Steve managed to get out, trying to sound normal, matching the soft tone of his partner. “My back’s just starting to stiffen up a bit.”

Mike stared at him for a bit, frowning, then said, “Look, why don’t you go back to the car and I’ll finish up here.”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

Mike’s frown deepened. “You sure?”

Trying to smile reassuringly, Steve nodded.

“Okay,” the older man growled, “but just to the second floor. I’ll take the third.” He started up, glancing over his shoulder as Steve slowly followed.

When they got to the top, Mike gestured with his head to the four closed doors they could see off the wraparound hallway and he headed towards the staircase to the third floor. Steve waited till he heard Mike reach the top floor before he moved slowly to the first door and opened it. It was a large empty bedroom but there was an old queen-sized mattress and dirty blankets in the far corner, and clothes piled somewhat neatly on the floor.

There was a set of double louvered closet doors and he crossed to them, his trained eyes scanning the room for anything of interest. He was just about to open the closet when he heard the unmistakable squeak of the front door.


	37. Chapter 37

Steve froze, holding his breath. There was another screech, telling him the front door was being closed followed by the sound of heavy footsteps crossing the foyer. With the first thud of a foot on the stairs, he yanked the closet door open, hoping for silence from the hinges and exhaling quietly when he was rewarded with it.

Grateful both he and his partner had chosen to wear sneakers instead of dress shoes, he stepped quickly and quietly into the large, empty closet and closed the door, backing into the corner as his heart began to pound. The thumping on the stairs was getting louder, then it stopped abruptly when whoever it was reached the landing.

Steve grimaced to himself; the bedroom door had been closed and he had left it open. The footsteps began again, slowly this time, coming closer then pausing once more. He could almost feel the presence lurking in the doorway, could envision the suspicious eyes darting around the room. 

He drew a deep breath in through his open mouth and froze, his eyes riveted on the small vertical slit of dim light streaming in between the two closet doors. Moving very slowly, he leaned away from the wall, snaking his right hand behind his back under his jacket, silently snapping the holster open and drawing the .38, holding it in front of him in both hands as he braced himself against the walls.

Then the footsteps started again, quickly, and the closet doors were thrown open.

# # # # #

Mike had just stepped into one of the third floor bedrooms when he heard the squeak of the front door opening and closing. He stood stock still as he listened to the footsteps cross the foyer and start up the stairs, using the sound to take a step deeper into the room, drawing his gun as he flattened himself against the wall near the door and listening intently, every sense on high alert. 

He heard the footfalls stop at the top of the first flight and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck start to bristle. And he knew instinctively their presence had been detected. 

When the footsteps started towards one of the bedrooms, he knew he had to act.

# # # # #

Both closet doors snapped open and in the split second before his eyes could focus, Steve shouted “Don’t move!” The figure silhouetted in the entrance froze, both hands, open and palms out, rising in submission.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” came a deep, somewhat familiar voice and Steve jumped slightly, frowning.

He lowered the barrel of the .38 just a bit. “Neil…?” There was an almost imperceptible pause before he could see the head started to nod softly.

“Ah… yeah…”

Steve closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, pushing away from the walls and reaching around to put the .38 back in the holster. Shaking his head, he started out of the closet as Neil took a couple of steps back. “You scared the hell out of me. What the hell are you doing here, man?” He held his right hand out and Neil took it, shaking it firmly then pulling the smaller man into a quick embrace.

“I live here now, Steve,” Neil chuckled, taking a step back and opening his arms, gesturing around him. “Why are you here?”

“Long story… I’ll explain in a minute. My partner’s upstairs and I -“

“Not anymore.” Mike’s voice overrode his and both heads snapped to the doorway where the older man was leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed. He was smiling. “I, ah, I take it you two know each other?”

Steve snorted a laugh, glancing at his new companion. “Ah, this is Neil, he’s the guy I told you about…? From the warehouse?”

Mike, his eyes on the grinning black man, pushed himself away from the door and crossed towards them, holding his right hand out. “The guy who helped you rescue all those people?”

Both Steve and Neil nodded.

“Well, I am very pleased to meet you, Neil, very pleased. I’m Mike.” 

Nodding, Neil took the proffered hand in a firm grip, “Yeah, I remember you. We, ah, we sorta met at the warehouse…” He glanced at Steve then ducked his head almost self-consciously. “I was there when they dug you out of the rubble but you didn’t see me…” He nodded down at the cast on the older man’s forearm. “How’s the wrist doing?”

Smiling, Mike raised his arm slightly. “Getting better every day, thanks.” He nodded at the room. “You say you live here now?”

Neil inhaled deeply. “Yeah…. Well, with the warehouse gone, there’s a lotta people trying to just put a roof over their heads, you know…” He looked at Steve and cocked his head. “Don’t know how long this is gonna last, but we take it one day at a time, you know…?”

“How many others stay here?” Steve asked.

“There’s only about a dozen of us right now, but there’s more coming. A lot of women and children that survived the warehouse, and a lot of the young kids that have drifted into town and have no place to live, well, they try to stay away from the rougher areas, so this place is starting to fill up. From what I heard The City came by a few months ago and cleared the place out but since the earthquake they haven’t been around so people are starting to come back…” He shrugged.

Steve looked at his partner and they both raised their eyebrows. “Listen, ah, Neil, I was hoping we’d run into you. We have a… well, a problem on our hands, and we’d like your help, if you’re willing.”

Neil looked from one detective to the other with a slight frown. “Well, I’ll have to know what it is first…”

“Of course,” Mike chuckled, nodding. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” He glanced at his watch. “Listen, ah, why don’t we take you out to lunch and we can talk about it there. How does that sound?” He included his partner in his eyebrow-raised offer.

Neil glanced at Steve before nodding. “Sure, why not? I learned a long time ago to never turn down a free meal.”

Mike headed for the door. Steve slapped Neil on the shoulder as they moved to follow, both of them smiling. As he stepped through the doorway into the hall, Mike said over his shoulder, “And you’ll get to meet my daughter too. It’s your lucky day,” he laughed.

# # # # #

Jeannie was sitting back in the heavy wooden chair, cradling a cup of coffee in both hands as they waited for their lunch orders to be filled, watching her father and his partner in their element. They had stopped at the car on their way to a nearby restaurant to pick her up, and she had been introduced to the handsome, imposing middle-aged black man named Neil. She had vaguely remembered him from what Mike had told her about Steve’s ordeal at the warehouse after the ‘quake.

It was obvious that the young inspector was thrilled to have met up with him again, like soldiers who had been through an horrific battle that had changed everyone’s lives. Which is exactly what the earthquake had done to them, she mused. 

And Mike seemed just as pleased to be a part of the reunion, knowing only too well what that feeling was like, having lived through it himself in the ‘quake as well as in war.

“So, ah, so how did you end up here on Oak? It’s a long way from the pier,” Mike asked after taking a sip of his own coffee and setting the heavy white cup down. 

Neil flashed a smile. “Well, there’s like this ‘underground telegraph’,” he chuckled. “Word gets around pretty fast when a place becomes… available, so to speak. And with the weather getting colder, well, people - especially the older ones and the women with kids - they want a warm place… and a safe place. And that’s what the Oak house is now.”

“A safe place?” Steve asked, unwrapping the paper napkin and arranging the cutlery in front of himself.

Neil nodded. “Yeah… that’s why I’m there. I’m sort of the… well, I’m the guard again. I make sure everybody is safe, especially at night.”

“So why is nobody there right now?”

“Well, we made a pact that during the day everybody would be out on the streets trying to make money, you know, pan-handling, busking… A few of the women even have jobs, you know, helping out in laundromats, stuff like that. One of them even works as a waitress but she doesn’t make enough for rent. One’s a maid in an SRO… that kinda thing. There are a couple of kids, school age, and they go to…” he shrugged, trying to find the right word, “classes I guess you could call them, that a couple of older women who live nearby have set up in an abandoned store not too far from here. A lot of street kids get their ‘education’ there,” he chuckled mirthlessly, making quote marks with his fingers.

Mike, who had been staring down, his right hand around his coffee cup, looked up. “Neil, if you don’t mind me asking, how did someone like you end up on the streets? You don’t strike me as the… as the homeless kind, if you know what I mean…” His smile was gentle and warm and the other man stared at him without expression for a long second before he nodded and his lips curled in a rueful smile of his own.

“You’re right, I never expected to be in this position, but this is where I’ve ended up, for the moment, and I’m resigned to it, for lack of a better word.” He leaned forward and wrapped both hands around his cup of tea, looking down as if mulling how much he was willing to share, then looking up into the soft blue eyes staring at him, “I’m a Vietnam vet, Mike. I was already a career soldier and I was a platoon sergeant when I was sent over at the start of the war. But I didn’t like what I saw over there…” He glanced at Jeannie then looked down at his cup. “We never should’ve been there in the first place. It wasn’t an honorable war, even at the beginning…”

Mike had stiffened as Neil talked, his stare dropping to the table as well, the conversation with Bobby ringing in his ears again, suddenly regretting that he’d stirred up these obviously strong feelings in Neil.

The war vet took a deep steadying breath. “One day one of the… boys under my command killed an old man on the side of the road just because the man cursed at him. I was appalled… I went to my colonel about it… and I was told to shut up and ignore it, that we had more important things to do…. But I couldn’t… and I didn’t. And even though I couldn’t get anything done officially, when my tour of duty was over and I returned stateside, I resigned. Well, I tried to resign,” he snorted derisively. “When the… the powers-that-be found out that I had attended an anti-war rally while I was still in uniform… well, it didn’t take long before I was dishonorably discharged.” He looked up at Mike, his eyes cold and resigned. “You know how hard it is to get a job when you’re older, you’re black and you’ve been dishonorably discharged?”

Mike just stared back; there were no words.

With an ironic snort, Neil half-smiled. “So, I’ve become a… a champion for the homeless, I guess. A bodyguard of sorts. It’s not much of a living, I know, but it feeds my soul… and it cleans my conscience.”

The silence that settled over the table was not uncomfortable, just sadly accepting. They could hear approaching footsteps and the waitress set a large platter on a nearby table and began to put plates in front of them. Slowly, all four started to move, acknowledging her presence with half-hearted smiles and nods.

Neil looked at Steve as he reached for his napkin-wrapped cutlery. “So, ah, you mentioned something about wanting me to look at some photos?”


	38. Chapter 38

Neil took a bite of his hamburger, his eyes on the two photos on the table in front of him. Not taking his focus off them, he set the burger back down on the plate, shaking his head as he chewed. He swallowed before he said, “No, sorry, I don’t recognize either of them.” He pointed to the red-haired woman, who had yet to be identified, and looked at Steve with a frown. “She died in the warehouse, didn’t she?”

The young inspector nodded; it was hard to disguise a morgue photo. 

Neil leaned back slightly. “So you’re telling me you think there’s some guy, or a guy and a woman, going around killing homeless men?” He looked from one partner to the other, frowning.

Mike raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Well, that’s the premise we’re working on right now.” He glanced at his partner and snorted softly. “The, ah, the man and woman theory is mine, to be perfectly honest, and I have nothing to base it on other than gut instinct… but…?” He shrugged.

Neil stared at him for a bit, then smiled. “I have a feeling your gut instinct has served you well over the years, Mike.”

With a tiny smug smile, the older man wobbled his head from side to side; Steve and Jeannie chuckled, their attentions returning to their meals.

Laughing, Neil leaned forward and picked up his burger again. “So what can I do to help?”

“Well,” Steve began, picking up the morgue picture and putting it back in his jacket pocket, “why don’t you keep that -“ he gestured at the mug shot of Margaret Jane Tolliver, “in case you spot someone you think looks like her… and give us a shout.” He reached into his back pocket for his wallet, slipped one of his business cards out and put it on the table. He looked across the table. “Do you have a pen?” he asked his partner.

“I do,” Jeannie offered quickly before her father could respond, reaching into the purse slung over the back of her chair and handing Steve a ballpoint, flashing a grin at her father as she did so.

Chuckling, Mike picked up his burger and took a big bite while Steve wrote his home phone number on the back of his card. “Call me anytime, I mean it,” he said as he slid the card closer to Neil.

They had already shown the Oak Street house guard the pictures of their three murdered homeless men but he hadn’t recognized them either. 

“Thanks,” Neil said as he pocketed the card. He pointed at the photo. “You want me to show that around?” He looked at both detectives with raised eyebrows.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Mike nodded after he swallowed. He picked up his glass of ginger ale to take a sip. 

“Consider it done,” the vet turned guard chuckled as he took a swig of his Coke. As he put the glass down, he looked back and forth at both detectives, settling on Mike. “Listen, ah, Mike,” he began almost hesitantly, “I don’t want to speak out of turn here, but you guys said you want to return to these abandoned houses at night and show these pictures around, right, and I think that’s a great idea if it’ll help you find out who’s killing those guys…” He paused and inhaled deeply. “Well, what I’m trying to say is, you two still aren’t a hundred percent, obviously, after… well, after what happened. And, frankly, I’m surprised you’re both still on the job…” He rolled his eyes and bobbled his head, looking away. 

Jeannie’s eyes shot wide and she glared at her father in an ‘I-told-you-so’ way; he purposefully ignored her reaction.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is…” Neil looked at Steve. “If you want, I’m, ah, I’m willing to go along with you when you talk to these people as sort of a… well, an escort of sorts -“

“A bodyguard?” Mike offered with a slight smile.

Neil smirked with a chuckle. “If you like…”

Mike leaned back and glanced at Steve, raising his eyebrows, then he looked back at Neil. “Well, you know these people better than we do.” He smiled. “I think that would be a great idea. Don’t you, Steve?”

The younger man grinned. “I couldn’t agree more.”

# # # # #

“So how many more before you call it a day?” Jeannie asked as she pulled the blue sedan away from the curb.

The partners had just returned from giving the second house since lunch a cursory once-over, Mike making a note on his list that they would need to give both a follow-up evening visit at some point. He looked at his daughter across the front seat. “What, you have a hot date tonight I don’t know about?”

“Ha ha,” she said dryly, hearing a muffled laugh fro the back seat. “No, I was just wondering how much longer this was going to take, that’s all.”

“Well, we were talking about that,” Mike admitted, tossing a quick glance in his partner’s direction, Neil’s words about it being obvious they hadn’t recovered from their warehouse ordeal beginning to sink in. “I think one more’ll do it. Steve’s back is tightening up a little bit, and I’m just getting pooped…”

Jeannie looked in the rearview mirror, frowning. “Are you okay? I can take you -“

“I’m fine, Jeannie,” Steve assured with a smile, “I have one more house in me.”

She shot a look at her father. “You’re both sure?”

He smiled. “We’re both sure.”

Still frowning, she nodded. They drove in silence for a minute or two then Mike, who was looking at his list then out the window and back again, said suddenly, “Where are we going? We’re nowhere near the next house on the list…”

“That’s because we’re not going to the next house on the list,” Jeannie explained pedantically. “I had a look at it, and we’re going to the one on Broderick.”

Mike stared at her for a moment. “Why?” he asked dryly.

She smiled without looking at him. “Why not? If it’s the last one for today, what does it matter?”

At a loss for a snappy comeback, Mike looked down at the paper in his hand then slowly put it on the seat beside him. Looking through the windshield, he shrugged to himself. “No reason, I guess…” he said quietly.

Both Jeannie and Steve grinned.

# # # # #

The Broderick house turned out to be condemned, completely boarded up and empty, surrounded by a padlocked chainlink fence; there was sign on the front door, and one on the fence, with the notification that it was to be demolished in nine days. Grateful that they didn’t have any more steps to climb, they returned to where they had left Jeannie and the car; it wasn’t there.

Looking around, frowning, Mike turned to his partner. “This is where we parked, right?” he asked hesitantly, staring at the empty space.

Behind the dark glasses, Steve’s head was swivelling back and forth up and down the street as well. “Unh-hunh…”

Mike exhaled noisily; though he didn’t want to admit it, he was getting very tired. He took the few steps to the low wall in front of the nearest house and sat. “I knew she had an ulterior motive when she said we were coming here. I just don’t know what it is…” 

Trying to hide a smile, Steve strolled over and did the same. After a couple of silent seconds, he asked facetiously, “She is coming back… right?”

Nodding slowly, Mike pursed his lips. “I sure hope so…” he sighed.

# # # # #

Twenty-three minutes later, the blue sedan pulled up and stopped on the street beside the still available parking space, and a grinning Jeannie leaned towards the open passenger side window. “Sorry!” she called with a giggle. “That took a little longer than I expected.”

With a glance at each other - Mike’s long-suffering, Steve’s amused - the men got up slowly from their perch on the wall and crossed towards the car. “What took longer than expected?” the older man asked as he reached for the handle and opened the door. His trained eyes scanned the inside of the car as he got in, but there was nothing he could see.

“Oh, just… well, you’ll see,” she chuckled enigmatically as she stepped on the gas after hearing the back door slam, feeling her father’s eyes burning a hole in the side of her head.

“Where did you go?” he asked calmly.

“Oh, ah, just Falletti’s.”

“Falletti’s? Why did you go to Falletti’s? We just did a huge grocery shop the other day.”

“Well, there were a few… specialty items I needed to get.”

“Specialty items…” Mike muttered under his breath. “What kind of specialty items?”

Staring through the windshield as she drove, a tiny smile played over her lips. “Nothing big… just, you know, bread, lettuce, tomatoes, cheese, butter, deli meats, peanut butter… you know, that kind of stuff.”

“Since when are bread and peanut butter specialty items? And don’t we have that kind of stuff at home already?” He knew she was holding something back and he was determined to get it out of her.

As the car turned left under a yellow light, she nodded. “Yes we do, but we don’t have enough.”

“Enough for what?”

They drove silently for several long beats before she cleared her throat. “Listening to Neil at lunch… about everybody living in those houses…” She glanced at her father. “I want to do something, Daddy… something that’ll help. And I thought I’d make up a bunch of sandwiches, you know, ham sandwiches and deli meat, stuff like that for the adults, and peanut butter and jelly for the kids… and I’d bring them back here tomorrow… to that school he was talking about… and the house…” She glanced at him again and shrugged slightly, sounding a little embarrassed.

From the back seat, Steve, who had followed the exchange with great interest, watched as Mike stared at his daughter silently, his lips twitching slightly, suddenly not knowing what to say. Hoping to bail him out, Steve leaned forward, trying not to grimace. “Ah, listen, Jeannie, I have a free night tonight - Jennifer’s busy,” he mumbled, dropping his voice with a soft chuckle, “and I’d love to give you a hand, if that’s okay?”

Jeannie looked in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure? I thought your back was starting to bother you?”

“Well, if I can lie down on your couch for awhile, I’m sure it’ll be fine…”

She shot a look at her father, who was still staring at her silently, then shrugged. “Ah, sure, yeah, that would be great, thanks. I can whip us up something for dinner too.”

# # # # #

She stood in the kitchen doorway, staring into the living room. Steve was stretched out on the sofa, Mike in the recliner, and both were sound asleep. As she returned to the stove, she glanced at the clock on the back panel: 5:28. She was loathe to wake them up but she wanted to get dinner over and done with so she could start on the sandwiches. 

The phone rang and she jumped slightly; it sounded unusually loud in the quiet house. She hesitated for a split second before crossing to the the wall phone and snatching up the receiver; part of her wanted the ringing to wake her father, part of her didn’t.

“Hello?”

“Hi, ah, is Mike Stone there?”

“Who can I say is calling?”

“Oh, it’s, ah, it’s Bernie from the M.E.’s office,” came the hesitant identification.

“One moment, please,” she said pleasantly, scowling at the receiver as she balanced it atop the phone and entered the living room.

Mike was awake, in a fashion; he was sitting forward slightly, blinking heavily and looking around as if trying to get his bearings. He looked up as she approached, glancing at Steve, who hadn’t moved.

“Phone call,” she said with raised eyebrows when his gaze finally settled on her. “It’s Bernie.”

Mike closed his eyes and sighed heavily before getting up. He nodded towards the sofa. “Do me a favour and wake him up, will ya? I’ll take it in the kitchen.”

He patted her affectionately on the shoulder as he passed and she turned to watch him go. A call from the medical examiner’s office was never good news.


	39. Chapter 39

Having mastered the technique of being able to use only the fingers of his left hand, Mike was sitting at the kitchen table, studiously but awkwardly spreading peanut butter and strawberry jam on thick slices of white bread and then handing the sandwiches to Steve across the table who was wrapping them in waxed paper and putting them in small lunch bags. Jeannie was standing at the counter, making sandwiches with the deli meats. She would periodically deliver her finished products to Steve, who wrapped and bagged them as well, using a thick black marker to write ‘D’, for deli, on the side of the paper bags.

Nobody had said a word for several long minutes. Conversation had been at a premium since Mike had gotten off the phone with Bernie. While she had started their dinner of homemade macaroni and cheese, he had rejoined a now-awake Steve in the living room and informed him of the call. 

Both men had been very quiet at dinner, and she knew it wasn’t because of anything physical. She had just swallowed her first bite of macaroni when she looked at her father’s downturned head across the table and cleared her throat softly. “Did, ah, did Bernie have bad news?” she asked hesitantly, staring at him apprehensively. She knew he wouldn’t be mad at her for asking, but she was afraid he would clam up even more, like he sometimes did with things he wanted to keep from her.

He moved the macaroni around on the plate with his fork then sighed before looking up. “They, ah, they found another homeless man dead last night, near Fort Mason.”

“Another one? Is it the same as…?” She let her voice trail off, the question obvious.

Mike nodded. “Bernie thinks so. It’s the same M.O,. so…?” He shrugged.

She took another bite, waiting till she swallowed before asking, “So that makes four?”

Her father nodded again. “That makes four.”

They ate in silence for a bit then she said, “Hey, wait a minute. You two are on sick leave, right?” She gestured back and forth between them with her fork. They both nodded, frowning slightly. “So should you be getting these kinds of calls while you’re, you know, technically not on the job?”

The two men exchanged a guilty look before Mike shrugged. “I guess Bernie didn’t get the memo…”

Her eyebrows narrowed. “Didn’t get the memo, yeah, right…” she mumbled sarcastically under her breath. “Neither of you are supposed to be back on the job until at least next Monday, right, and that happens to be the day I have to go back to school, so don’t think you’re gonna be sneaking out to go to work without me knowing.” She punctuated her words with her fork.

Steve glanced at his partner and a tiny smile began to spread across his face. “Uh, didn’t you help us ‘work’ today?” Two pairs of blue eyes snapped in his direction, the young ones defiant, the older grateful. 

“That’s because he,” she nodded in her father’s direction, emphasizing the pronoun, “promised me it was not really work, just… surveillance.”

“Reconnaissance…” Mike corrected lamely, looking down with a soft smile.

“And the difference between work and… reconnaissance is…?” Steve asked with a smirk, picking up his coffee cup and hiding behind it as he took a sip. The glare he received from his partner could’ve melted glass. 

“Are you helping or hurting here?” the older man growled in feigned irritation, and Jeannie smothered a laugh and a grin.

She was relieved she had managed to cajole her father out of his sombre mood, though she knew it wouldn’t last. He had always taken his responsibilities as a police officer with the utmost gravitas and dedication, sometimes to the detriment of his own health and peace of mind. And she knew that was exactly why her mother had loved him so much.

“Okay, so I’ll make you a deal,” she said to her father as she stabbed more macaroni with her fork then picked it up and waved it in his direction. “If you help me get enough sandwiches done tonight, I will drive you both around again tomorrow on the condition we go back to Oak Street and deliver them to the school and the house…. And maybe we can find Neil again and he can tell us other places to go that maybe aren’t on your list.” She popped the macaroni into her mouth and chewed as she waited for her father to contemplate her offer.

He stared at her expressionlessly for several long seconds then, after releasing a short low growl, his eyes narrowed. “Do you plan on making and delivering sandwiches every day while you’re home?” he asked flatly.

She stared at him for a second then swallowed, bobbing her head and shrugging. “Maybe…”

“And, if I pay for all this…” he scowled, “and if we help you,” he included Steve in a quick glance, “you’ll drive us around if we need you to, for the rest of the week?”

She hesitated, frowning skeptically. “You’ll pay for the sandwiches?”

His expression unchanging, he nodded once.

Her face exploded into a wide grin. “Deal.”

Mike looked at his partner and nodded. “Deal…”

The younger man laughed as he tucked into his dinner once again, the floorshow over for the moment.

# # # # #

“Don’t forget we’re going to the ballgame on Friday night,” Mike said as he stood in the open doorway, Steve on the landing.

The younger man fished into his jacket pocket for his keys. “I won’t, don’t worry. Jennifer said she’s looking forward to it. Oh, and speaking of that, she said she’s dying for a ballpark frank so she wants to eat at the ‘Stick. Does that work for you and Jeannie?”

The older man’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah, you bet. It’s been awhile since we’ve done that. I’ll check with Jeannie but I don’t think she’ll mind.”

“Great.” Steve started down the steps. “See ya tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, don’t forget, we’ll pick you up. Hey, ah, I’m glad I finally got to meet Neil. He’s, ah, he’s pretty special, isn’t he?”

Steve had stopped partway down the steps and looked back. Smiling softly, he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, he is.” His smile got a little wider. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Thoughtfully, Mike closed the door.

# # # # #

With two large paper bags filled with sandwiches in lunch bags in the trunk of the car, the trio headed out again the next morning. They managed to get through a few more houses on Mike’s list, more than half of them uninhabited and the others empty; they had learned from Neil that another reason the houses were empty during the day was to reduce the possibility of discovery and eviction. Around noon, they headed back to the Oak Street house but it was still empty as well and Neil was nowhere around. 

Remembering that he had told them that the ‘school’ was located in a nearby abandoned store, they headed off in different directions, with specific instructions from Mike to ‘reconnoiter’ at the car in a half-hour whether they found the ‘school’ or not.

It was Steve who was successful; trying the door to a boarded up bodega, he found a makeshift classroom with three ‘teachers’ and eleven ‘students’ ranging in age from about four to about thirteen. In the big, high-ceilinged room they had set up chairs and tables that had obviously been rescued from the garbage, and had even managed to salvage two large, slightly damaged blackboards, no doubt from an abandoned school somewhere.

Showing his badge, he took one of the women aside and explained who he was and what he and his partner and partner’s daughter wanted to do. And when he returned with Mike and Jeannie and the two large paper bags, they were met with heartwarming enthusiasm. Mike was almost speechless as he handed out the peanut butter and jam sandwiches to the suddenly shy kids.

As they walked back to the car, carrying the still half-filled bags, Mike slipped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders. She could feel him trembling slightly and she knew he was having a hard time processing what he had just seen.

It surprised her. She knew he was more than familiar with life on the streets, given his long years on the force, but something about what they had just seen had really touched a nerve, it seemed. Even Steve seemed unnaturally quiet.

They got into the car in silence, and she was just about to turn the key in the ignition when her father said suddenly, “Does either of you know where you can buy chalk?”

“What?” Steve asked from the backseat, not sure he had heard correctly.

“Chalk. You know, for blackboards?”

“Oh… ah,” Steve smiled to himself as he caught his breath, suddenly realizing the broader implications of what his partner had just asked. “Well, not off the top of my head, but I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find out.”

Jeannie smiled across the front seat at her father. “I can find out.”

Mike nodded, his expression halfway between a smile and a pensive frown. “Okay… Uh, see if you can get stuff like paper and pencils too… erasers…. You know, that kind of stuff… school stuff…”

His daughter stared at him, nodding softly. “Sure… okay…” she said quietly. After a couple of silent beats, Mike’s attention obviously elsewhere, she raised her voice slightly. “Ah, so where to next?” She gestured with her chin at the list on the seat between them.

He looked at her blankly for a beat then started slightly. “Oh, ah, yeah, right,” he mumbled as he picked the piece of paper up, reaching into his shirt pocket for his glasses. As he read off the address, she started the engine and shifted into drive, trying to swallow an affectionate grin.

# # # # #

The day was a busy one; though they didn’t cross paths with Neil, they had checked out four more empty abandoned houses and, after dividing the remaining sandwiches between the two bags and leaving a handwritten explanation on the sides, left them in two different houses that they could tell were occupied.

It was a long day for everyone, both physically and emotionally, and they called it an early night. Mike was barely able to stay awake through dinner and retired soon after. Steve, who had been dropped off at home, made himself a quick meal before crawling into his own bed.

Finished with the dishes, Jeannie curled up on the couch, nursing a steaming cup of tea and reflecting on the past couple of days. It had been a whirlwind of emotions for everyone. Even though she had grown up in The City the daughter of a cop, and knowing, if only peripherally, the seamier side of life, as hard as her father tried to keep it from her, experiencing it first hand was another matter altogether. And though she knew that The City was home to a large population of people of ‘no fixed address’, as the saying went, she had always somehow expected them to be men; men who could handle themselves on the streets. The realization that the indigent population was comprised of a great number of women and children was a truth that was very hard to accept.

She looked up the stairs. She knew her father had been deeply moved by what he had witnessed today, the makeshift schoolroom in the midst of a city whose outer beauty camouflaged its hidden problems. She took a sip of her tea, her expression hardening. She knew what she had to do for both her father and herself.

There were only four more days before she had to head off again, and she was determined to make the most of them. And one of the things she needed to do was make sure both her men were back to their old selves, or as near as she could get them, before she left them to their own devices once more.

She got up and walked back into the kitchen, setting the empty cup on the counter. She would make sure Mike spent tomorrow in bed, or lazing around the house, no matter how much he protested, even if she had to hide the car keys. And she would begin put her own plan into motion, she hoped.

With a heavy sigh, she started up the stairs. She had a lot to do in the next four days; she only hoped she would be able to pull it off.


	40. Chapter 40

He opened his eyes on a room that was brighter than he was expecting, than what was normal. He blinked slowly, staring at the ceiling, trying to get his foggy mind to focus. He turned his head slowly and squinted at the clock/radio: 9:26. Startled, his eyes shot open and he reached to pull the blankets off and sit up.

He was halfway up when he remembered he had promised Jeannie he would consider giving the idea of taking the day off serious consideration, depending on how he felt when he woke up. He sighed in frustration; the simple fact that he had slept in this late meant that his body was trying to tell him what his mind was reluctant to admit. It was finally dawning on him what spending twenty-four hours trapped in a collapsed building could do to someone, and, in this particular case, to him.

He let his head drop back onto the pillow; if he felt this bad, he could only imagine how Steve felt, and pang of guilt shot through him. He smiled slightly, as he almost always did when he thought about his partner from time to time, knowing the young man wouldn’t put up too much resistance when presented with the opportunity for some downtime.

It was more than a half-hour later, in his robe and slippers, that he worked his way down to the kitchen. Jeannie was sitting at the table, on the phone, when he appeared in the doorway and she glanced up, pausing as she wrote something down to put her index finger in front of her pursed lips to shush him peremptorily before returning to her call. 

“Yes… Yes…. Oh, yes, that would be wonderful…. Yes, of course…. Yes, thank you very much. I will…. Good-bye.” She reached above her head to hang the receiver up, grinning to herself as she finished making some notes.

Mike, who was still standing in the doorway, frowned in amused confusion as he moved to the counter, opening an upper cupboard and taking a mug out. “What’s going on?”

When she didn’t answer right away, he glanced over his shoulder as he picked up the percolator. She was leaning over the pad on the table in front of her, writing furiously. Distracted, she looked up. “What?”

His smile grew bigger. “Good morning. I asked what was going on?”

Suddenly her eyes widened and she grinned. “Good morning. Wow, you sure slept in.”

“Yes, I did,” he agreed, pouring coffee into his cup. He gestured at the table with his chin. “So, ah, for the third time… what’s going on here? What are you up to?”

She smiled enigmatically as she put the pen down and got to her feet, turning the top page over as she did so. “So, what do you want for breakfast? We have bacon. You want bacon and eggs?”

He stared at her pointedly as she crossed to the fridge and opened it, taking out the milk and putting it on the counter then looking at him expectantly. 

“Well?”

With obvious exaggeration, he let his eyes drift to the papers on the table and back again and raised his eyebrows.

She stared at him for several long seconds then sighed heavily. “If you must know, I’m not finished yet, and I will tell you when I’m done.” She smiled smugly. “Satisfied?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Good… maybe you’ll learn some patience.”

“Oh, yeah, like that’s gonna happen,” he chuckled as he picked up the milk, pulled the top open and poured a small amount into his cup. “I’m an old dog, remember?”  
She chuckled warmly. “You want bacon and eggs?” she asked again, still holding the fridge door open.

“Uh, sure, but not right away. I want to take a shower and get dressed first.” He picked up the cup and headed to the doorway. “Besides, it’ll give you time to make some more of those phone calls,” he said, glancing back with a smile as he disappeared.

# # # # #

“So, I got a call from The Catholic Charities this morning.”

Fully dressed, Mike was lying on his bed, leaning against the headboard, the phone beside him. “Oh, what did they have to say?”

“Well, it turns out Sheila Williams got in touch with them. Seems she talked to her parents about Janice’s kids and they have made inquiries about applying for custody. But the C.C. has to do an evaluation first, of course, and they called to ask me what my impressions of them were.”“So what did you say?”

“Ah, nothing yet. They asked me to come in, they don’t want to do it over the phone.” He snorted slightly. “I think they’re a lot like us, they want to see what my reaction is, you know?”

“Yeah, good point. When do they want you to go in?”

“Ah, I’m gonna go later this afternoon.”

“What are you going to tell them?” Mike heard a loud sigh from the other end of the line.

“I haven’t figured that out yet. I really don’t think the grandfather is any great shakes as a nurturing parent… but they might be the only blood relatives these kids have…” Steve sighed again; it was an untenable situation. “What do you think?”

Mike chuckled dryly. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Steve. You have to do what you think is right for those kids. As strange as it is, you seem to be their only lifeline right now. But I will tell you one thing, and that’s that you have have to go with your gut.” He chuckled warmly again. “You’ll know what to say.”

There was another loud sigh. “I sure hope so. So, what are you up to today?”

“Me? Well, Jeannie’s being all mysterious, making a lot of phone calls that she won’t tell me about and she went out about a half hour ago and wouldn’t tell me where she’s going or why, so I’m kinda stuck here without wheels. But I wasn’t going anywhere anyway,” he chuckled. “However, there’s still several loaves of bread downstairs and some of those deli meats and PB&J so I’ll probably spend a couple of industrious hours making more sandwiches. Make myself useful.”

Steve laughed. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Look, I want to hit the ground running on Monday when we’re allowed back in the building, okay, so let’s, you know… let’s do what we’re supposed to do and… heal,” he chuckled dryly, eyeing the cast on his left forearm, and heard his partner do the same. “And listen, ah, why don’t you give me a call when you get back from the C.C.. Let me know what you told them.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Have fun making sandwiches.”

“Will do.”

# # # # # 

It was late afternoon when the front door finally opened again and Jeannie entered almost breathlessly. She found her father sitting at the kitchen table, trying to get the last of the peanut butter out of the glass jar, a stack of unwrapped sandwiches before him on a large platter.

“Wow, you’ve been busy,” she chuckled as moved further into the room, pulling out the chair on the far side of the table and putting her purse and a large, and obviously heavy, paper bag on it.

Mike glanced up at her and smiled. “Well, I had to do something with all my free time.” He pointed at the counter with the knife. 

She followed the movement, her eyes widening when she saw a pile of wax paper wrapped sandwiches all ready to go. She chuckled, her warm and proud gaze returning to him. “Wow again,” she giggled as she bent forward to give him a kiss. As she straightened up, she nodded towards his left hand. “You’ve got peanut butter on your cast.”

He looked down and frowned. “Yeah, I know.” He shrugged with an easy inevitability. “Well, it was bound to happen. Good thing I like the smell of peanut butter.” As she laughed, he gestured with his chin at the paper bag on the chair. “What’s in there?”

She crossed to the counter and picked up the percolator. “Is this fresh?”

He nodded. “Half an hour ago.”

She took a mug out of the cupboard. “Well, I guess I can tell you now,” she began as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “I spent most of the afternoon at Mission.” She raised her eyebrows, anticipating his response.

He frowned. “Your old high school?”

“Umh-humh.” She moved back to the table, put her purse and the bag on the floor and sat. “I called them this morning and asked if I could go in and see the principal.”

Mike’s head went back slightly. “Mr., ah,… Simpson…?”

“Sanderson,” Jeannie corrected him gently. “But close; I’m impressed. I think you only met him once. Anyway, they said sure so I went in. And I talked to him about… well, about what we saw yesterday… about what you asked about in the car… about chalk and paper and stuff…” She shook her head sadly and shrugged slightly. “He, ah, he had no idea that that sort of thing - the makeshift classroom - was happening out there… just like us…. Well, anyway, I asked him if there was some way we could do something to help out. And he jumped at the chance.” She paused, smiling, and looked down at the paper bag on the floor. “That’s full of chalk and a couple of blackboard erasers, some pencils and pads of paper, erasers…” She looked back at her father and smiled almost embarrassedly.

He was staring at her without expression.

She shrugged. “Anyway, ah, he’s going to call around to some other schools and to the companies that sell school supplies and see if they can make donations…” 

Mike’s had continued to stare but his breaths were getting deeper; he started to shake his head and smile. “You did that today?”

She nodded.

“Wow,” he said quietly, fatherly love and pride so evident on his face. His eyes grew suddenly bright. 

She chuckled, reaching out to put her hand over his and squeezing. “But listen, uh, there is one problem,” she said quietly, glancing down. When she looked back up, he was frowning. “Well, as you well know, I am going back to school on Monday, so…”

He had started to nod slowly, pursing his lips. “Unh-hunh…. So am I to assume that responsibility for all this,” he thrust his chin in the direction of the bag on the floor, “and all the stuff still to come, is going to fall on my shoulders?”

She screwed up her face and nodded. 

“I see,” he said slowly. “And when am I supposed to do all this? I mean, you know, I still have a day job… I hope… when I finally get back… on Monday…”

She continued to stare at him pleadingly, using every trick she had learned over the years to wrap him around her little finger. It worked.

“I guess I can find the time…” he sighed heavily before a rueful smile curled his lips, and she squealed as she got up and circled the table towards him, bending down to throw her arms around him. 

He chuckled as he held his hands out and away from her. “Hey, careful! I’m covered in peanut butter, remember?”

Laughing, she kissed him on the cheek before letting go. 

Still smiling, he nodded at the table. “Why don’t you give me a hand finishing these up and then you can make me dinner as a reward for all my hard work. How does that sound?”

“It would be my pleasure,” she laughed as she stepped to the sink to wash her hands. Over the sound of the running water, she looked over her shoulder. “You think we can deliver all this stuff sometime tomorrow before we go to the ballgame?”

“I don’t see why not,” he answered as he opened a fresh jar of peanut butter.

When she crossed back to the table, he was staring at her, his expression unreadable. She stopped. “What?”

He smiled slowly and lovingly. “Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?” he asked quietly.

She returned the smile, her eyes brightening. “Unh-humh…” she nodded slightly, then chuckled affectionately. “And right back atcha…” She sat slowly back down, biting her bottom lip, then looked up at him coyly from under her brow. “Uh, and there’s a few things I’m gonna need help with over the weekend…”


	41. Chapter 41

“So what did you end up telling them?” He could hear the loud exhale from the other end of the line.

It was just after dinner, and Mike was in his room. He had retreated there when Steve called, wanting the privacy and not wanting to spoil his daughter’s buoyant mood.

“Oh, god… it was hard, I tell you. I wanted to come right out and tell them he’s not a fit role model, but if his daughter told them to consider her parents for custody, maybe there’s something about him we didn’t twig to when we were up there.”

“Maybe…”

“Anyway, I told them what my reservations were but also that they should possibly talk to extended family members, if there are any, and neighbours, and they said they’re gonna do that anyway but wanted to hear what I thought, mainly because of my job. They seem to think I have a better take on human nature than the average guy on the street, I guess.”

The older man chuckled. “Well, sometimes we do but I know, for me at least, it’s not always a hundred percent.” He heard a soft, confirming snort from the other end. “Well, I think you did the best you could, don’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.”

“So what happens now?”

“Well, they said they’d call when they made the final decision, to let me know. They said they usually don’t but they’re making an exception in my case… ‘because of the circumstances’, they said.”

“Because of what happened after the earthquake?”

“I guess.” There was a short pause. “So, did you find out what Jeannie was up to?”

“Oh yeah,” Mike chuckled. “Wait’ll I tell you…. And if you think it’s only me she roped into all this, you’re gonna have another think coming, just so you know…”

# # # # #

Jeannie switched the heavy bag of sandwiches into her left arm to knock on the abandoned bodega door, glancing back over her shoulder at her father, who was carrying the bag of school supplies. The door was opened by an older dark gray-haired woman they recognized from the day before. Her soft hazel eyes widened when she saw them, taking a couple of steps back to allow them to enter.

“Well, we weren’t expecting to see you again so soon,” she chuckled warmly as she closed the door behind them. “But I have to tell you, your sandwiches were a big hit.”

“That’s great,” Jeannie laughed softly, hefting the bag in her arms. “We brought some more.” She nodded towards her father. “And something else…”

They moved deeper into the room. The murmur of voices, exited ones from the kids, shushing ones from the other two women ‘teachers’, filled the room. Mike put his bag on a nearby table and turned to their hostess, extending his right hand. “We weren’t exactly formally introduced yesterday. Mike Stone,” he said with a grin.

Beaming back, the woman took his hand and shook it warmly. “Carol Stayner. So nice to meet you, Mike.”

He nodded towards Jeannie, still carrying her bag, who was moving closer to the children. “My daughter, Jeannie. She’s the one responsible for all this.”

Carol looked at the beautiful young woman, whose entire face with lit with joy as she approached the youngest kids, who were staring at her like she was Santa. Jeannie exchanged a few words with one of the teachers.

“Ah,” Mike pointed at the bag in his daughter’s arms, “more sandwiches… and this bag has a something else.”

Realizing that Carol was the one in charge, Jeannie returned to her father and set the bag on the table. She extended her right hand. “Jeannie Stone.”

Laughing, Carol shook the extended hand. “So your father just told me. Carol Stayner.” She glanced towards the kids, who were still staring at the newcomers with wide, happy smiles, no longer paying any attention to their lessons.

Jeannie grimaced slightly. “So sorry to interrupt your classes, but I didn’t want to wait until Monday…” She shrugged slightly, not seeing any reason to explain her imminent departure. She pulled Mike’s bag closer and began to open it, then looked at Carol with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. “I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping my… well, my boundaries, I guess… but when I saw what you’re dealing with here,” she nodded over her shoulder towards the ‘classroom’, “well, I just thought that maybe you could use some help.”

Carol smiled warmly, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on the young woman’s elbow. “Oh, honey, I don’t think that at all. To be honest, we can use all the help we can get, and I’ve lived long enough to know that only stupid people look a gift horse in the mouth…”

Behind her, Mike chuckled softly and she shot a congenial smile at him. 

Jeannie exhaled loudly in relief. “Oh, good, I was hoping you’d say that… because I have, well, what I hope is a good idea and I’d like to talk to you about it.”

Carol frowned slightly. “Okay, shoot.”

Taking a deep breath, Jeannie glanced at her father, who was staring at her with an encouraging smile, before she began. “Well, I think we might be able to help a lot more than we are right now…”# # # # #

“So tomorrow my daughter and I are going to be driving all over town talking to restaurant owners and bakery store owners and… god know who else, to see if they are willing to donate their day-olds and stuff like that so that it can be picked up and delivered to the homeless.” 

Mike took another bite of his hotdog while he waited for Steve to swallow his mouthful of beer. He took a moment to glance at the diamond; the Giants were taking the field for the top of the fifth, holding onto a slim one-nothing lead. So far it had been a pitcher’s duel and, to be honest, a bit of a boring game.

Steve swallowed the beer and grinned. “And she’s still leaving on Monday to go back to school?”

Continuing to chew, Mike nodded, his stricken eyes telling his young partner every thought that was going through his mind.

“And she somehow expects you to do all the ‘dirty work’, so to speak?”

Mike swallowed exaggeratedly. “Oh boy, does she ever…. I keep telling her I have a job to do, but she’s in this… this optimistic bubble of magnanimousness…” He paused and frowned. “Is that word? Anyway, she’s hoping to put together this ‘coalition’, which now is really just her and me, and then she’s gonna skip town.” He was beginning to sound put upon, but he was keeping his voice low enough so Jeannie, sitting on his other side and talking to Jennifer, couldn’t hear him. “So anyway, like I said on the phone last night, don’t think you’re getting away unscathed…. If I am being roped into this, so are you, buddy boy, so are you.”

# # # # #

By the time they arrived at the third restaurant, Mike realized he was just being used as a prop. Jeannie had figured out, quite quickly it seemed, that the mere fact her father was a police detective, and a Homicide lieutenant no less, was enough to convince the owners and managers that this was more than just a frivolous and idealistic young woman trying to do her civic duty and help the homeless. Bottom line, he added gravitas and legitimacy.

He played his part well and by the end of a very long day, she had promises from all the businesses they visited to take part in her proposed plan. With commitments from six restaurants and two bakeries, she bounced up the concrete steps outside the De Haro house while he father dragged himself up behind her and collapsed into the recliner with a cartoonishly exaggerated groan.

She had disappeared into the kitchen and emerged almost immediately with an open can of Budweiser, putting it into his outstretched hand with a chuckle and a smirk. “I thought driving from place to place and talking to people was what you and Steve did almost every day?”

He glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Yes,” he began slowly and pedantically, “but I usually do more than just stand around like a cardboard cutout while Steve does all the talking. I actually, you know… contribute.”

She grinned at him and raised her eyebrows. “I see. And that’s all you think you did today, stand around like a cardboard cutout?”

He shrugged and bobbled his head. “Maybe…” 

She sat on the arm of the chair and, taking the beer from his hand and putting it on the endtable, wrapped her arms around him. “Awww, poor Mike…” She pulled back slightly and kissed his cheek. “Well, I’ll have you know that all that… confidence you saw in me today, well, I learned all that from you…. But I wouldn’t have been able to do what I did today if I didn’t have you there with me…” Her smile disappeared and her eyes moistened. She leaned down to hug him again. “Thank you, Daddy…”

He wrapped his arms around her, careful of the cast, and squeezed. “You’re welcome, sweetheart, glad I could be of help…” he chuckled and held her tightly.

When he let go, she pushed herself up and stared at him. “How about I fry us some chicken and make French fries for dinner while you take a nap?”

“You read my mind,” he grinned. As she started to get up, he grabbed her and pulled her down into a hug again, her head against his chest. “What you’re doing is very special, you know that, right?” He felt her nod and he squeezed her tighter.

# # # # #

“So I’m calling to invite you and Jennifer, if you’re free, to dinner tomorrow night so you can get one more dose of Jeannie’s home cooking before she takes off again and we don’t get to see her until Thanksgiving.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?” Steve chuckled on the other end of the line. “I’m not sure Jennifer can make it - she’s heading down to L.A. for a couple of days but I’m not sure if she’s leaving tomorrow or Monday. I’ll find out and let you know.”

“Okay, that’ll work.”

“So how did it go today? Did you visit all those restaurants Jeannie wanted to see?”

“Oh yeah… She’s amazing, you know that? By the time we finished, she had commitments from all of them, including two bakeries, to try to set up some kind of system where they will donate the food that they’re going to throw away - the stuff that hasn’t gone bad, of course - for pick-up.”

“So how’s that gonna work?”

“Well, we’re not sure yet. She and I are gonna work on that tomorrow… from here. I made her promise we won’t leave the house. Besides, it’s Sunday so most everything will be closed anyway.”

Steve laughed. “You know, I’ve been giving this whole… donation thing some thought since we talked about it last night and I have an idea I’d like to run past you.”

“I’m all ears. Well, one right now, anyway.” They both chuckled.

“So, ah, so you’re not gonna have time to do all this kinda stuff and she has to know that, but what would she think about putting someone else in charge of it all, someone who knows what’s needed and where it’s needed…?”

Mike growled lowly in agreement. “I have a feeling I know where you’re going with this… I’ve been thinking the same thing…”

“Neil?”

“Neil.” Mike laughed as he heard the confirming chuckle from the other end of the line. After a beat, he mused, “So who’s going to be the one to approach him? I think it should be you ‘cause, you know, you know him better…”

A very loud sigh was heard. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. I guess with all the work you and Jeannie have been doing, it’s the least I can do.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mike laughed. “Listen, ah, before you do anything, let me run it by Jeannie and see if she agrees.”

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“Okay, ah, I’ll have to pick my spot so it might not be until tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll get the lay of the land before you show up for dinner tomorrow night.” He chuckled warmly. “Have a good night and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too.”


	42. Chapter 42

Mike couldn’t hide the smile as he crossed the bullpen towards his office, acknowledging the welcome-backs with curt nods. Steve, in shirtsleeves, was already at his desk, trying to deal with the paperwork that had miraculously accumulated during his absence.

“Jeannie safely on the bus?” he asked without looking up.

Mike dropped his hat on the coat rack and started to loosen his tie. “Yep, she’s gone till Thanksgiving, but she sure left a lot of frozen meals, and work, behind her,” he chuckled as he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up before circling his desk. His eyes widened at the stack of papers, messages and file folders that had also appeared in the past ten days. He pulled the chair out and sat, rubbing his hands over his face in an attempt to get his head back in the game. It had been a very busy weekend.

Steve appeared in the doorway and leaned against the frame. “So what do you want to do first?”

Mike looked up with a shrug and raised eyebrows. “Well, I want to get up to speed on everything that’s been going on around here. And tonight I want us to start canvassing those houses we checked out last week; we gotta get back into gear fast. We’ve lost a lotta ground. So why don’t you head down to the M.E.’s office and get the autopsy report on our latest victim, find out if they’ve made an identification yet, check with Missing Persons to see if they’ve I.D.’d any more survivors from the warehouse, make sure we have pictures of everyone we need for tonight, and then,” he bowed his head and raised both hands placatingly, “and I know it’s a lot of work for a first day back, I want you to head over to the Oak Street house and see if you can find Neil. I want to take him up on his ‘bodyguard’ offer when we start showing those photos around again… and I want to talk to him about our little offer.” He raised his eyebrows once more. “You okay with all that? Are you up to it, do you think?”

Steve chuckled as he pushed himself away from the doorframe. “Are you kidding? It feels great to be back at work. So,” he playfully snapped to attention, “sir, yes, sir!” He knocked off a wildly exaggerated salute and about face and started back to his desk.

Laughing, Mike watched him go. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did get drafted!” he called after him.

“It was close, Lieutenant, it was very close,” Steve chuckled as he picked his jacket up from the back of his chair and started towards the exit.

# # # # #

His right shirtsleeve rolled up, leaning over his desk reading through files, Mike looked over the top of his glasses at the small colour photo in the gold frame and smiled wistfully. Jeannie had only been gone for a few hours and he missed her already.

He put the pen down and straightened up, flexing the muscles in his back and neck then taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He had just picked the pen up again when the phone rang.

“Homicide, Stone.”

“Yeah, it’s me. I found him.”

“Who? Neil?”

“Yep. He was at the house. He’s here with me now.”

“Where are you?”

“The phone booth at the corner of Oak and Baker. Why?”

“Oh, no reason, just curious. I didn’t think that one was working. They must’ve fixed it.”

“Yeah, they must’ve,” Steve chuckled. “So, ah, so Neil says he’s fine with accompanying us tonight. When and where?”

“Good, great. Ah, well, why don’t we start at the Oak Street house, say, uh, seven? That’ll give us time for dinner first, and maybe a nap…” he chuckled. “Look, ah, ask Neil if he wants to join us for dinner and we can ask him about that little matter… you know…. Oh, but, ah, don’t mention anything right now, okay?” Mike finished quickly.

Steve chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’ve been… careful. So what time, and where?”

“Ah, how about six? Will that give us enough time do you think?”

“It should.”

“Okay, ah, then get him to pick a place nearby - not too expensive.” They both laughed. 

“Okay, I’ll ask him and then I’ll head back in. You need me to do anything else?”

“Nope. I’ll bring you up to speed on everything when you get back here. See you in a bit.” Mike hung up.

# # # # #

“Wow, your daughter sure was busy…” Neil chuckled as he speared a dumpling with his chopsticks and dipped it in the small bowl of soy sauce. “Good for her. That’s quite the challenge she’s taken on.” He popped the dumpling into his mouth, briefly closing his eyes in ecstasy at the taste.

“Ah, yeah, it sure is…” Mike began hesitantly, pushing the noodles on his plate around with his chopsticks, looking at the man across the table from under his brow, “and the problem is, she had to head back to college this morning and she’s going to be gone till Thanksgiving.” He looked down and swallowed heavily. 

Neil, grinning after he swallowed, gestured at the lieutenant with his chopsticks and chortled, “And she left you to do all the dirty work?”

Mike tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, she sure did. The, ah, the problem is, though, um… well, I kinda have a job to do you know, catching murderers and that kinda thing…” He cleared his throat then looked to his right, where the young inspector was looking back and forth between them, obviously enjoying his partner’s discomfort. “But Steve here has a great idea, don’t you, Steve?”

The younger man froze momentarily, suddenly and unexpectedly thrust into the spotlight, then he smiled and, after shooting a glare in Mike’s direction, looked at Neil and chuckled almost nervously. “Ah, yeah, ah, well, um…”

Neil was looking at him with raised eyebrows and a warmly expectant expression; he was way ahead of them and if they hadn’t been so self-conscious, they both would’ve noticed a lot sooner.

Steve cleared his throat. “Well, the whole… project is going to need someone to, you know… oversee it, and coordinate everything, and make sure things are picked up, and distributed, you know, that kinda thing…”

“Sounds like a big job,” Neil interjected flatly with the ghost of a smile.

“Yeah, I’m sure it will be,” Steve nodded, still not making eye contact. Mike was taking the opportunity to actually eat some of his dinner, staring studiously at his plate.

“Well, whoever takes that on is gonna need a truck or a van… or a station wagon to get that kinda job done,” Neil tossed out.

Mike, glancing up, nodded. “Yeah, we thought about that too. But there’s a guy we know, a lieutenant in Robbery, whose brother owns a used car lot and we’re thinking that maybe we can, you know, use some friendly pressure to get us a deal on a used vehicle… or maybe even donate one, I mean who knows, right?”

Frowning, impressed, Neil nodded. “Wow, sounds like you guys have put a lot of thought into this.”

Steve smiled. “Well, it’s Mike and Jeannie that’ve done all the work. I’ve just been a… a consultant, I guess you can say.”

Putting his chopsticks down, Neil leaned back in the wooden armchair and his warm eyes slid back and forth between the two detectives. “So, ah, so what is this idea you have?” he asked finally, his gaze settling on Steve.

Though it was almost imperceptible, they could see Mike relax slightly as a quick tiny smile crossed his lips and he focused once more on his plate.

“Well, ah,” the younger man began, with a valiant attempt at trying to maintain eye contact with the very bemused army vet, “well, Mike and I are, as you well know, I’m assuming, way too busy to do this kind of thing, and do it justice, and we were wondering, well, if, ah -“

“If I would be interested in taking it on?” Neil finished for him, chuckling when the two pairs of eyes at the table shot in his direction, widening in surprise. 

It was Mike who found his voice first. “Well, ah, yeah, ah, that’s exactly what we were wondering.”

“Jeez, I was wondering how long you two were going to beat around the bush about it,” Neil laughed, leaning over the table and clasping his hands. “I really hope you don’t interrogate suspects like this.”

The detectives looked at each other, then Mike sat back and laughed, dropping his head in embarrassment. Steve closed his eyes and shook his head, chuckling.

“Ah, no,” Mike snorted with a laugh, “no, we’re, ah, we’re actually a lot more focused and direct - and intimidating - when we interview people, believe me.”

Chuckling, Neil sat back, picking the napkin up off his lap and dropping it on the plate. “Well, to put you both out of your misery - self-inflicted, mind you,” he laughed, “I’m very interested in what you’ve just proposed. I’d like to talk to you about it a little more, but… yeah,” he looked at Steve pointedly and smiled, “yeah, I am very interested.”

Mike, who had been holding his breath, released it with a loud rush and grinned. “You know, when I talked to my daughter about all this yesterday, she was over the moon when I told her we were going to ask you. She said she couldn’t think of a better… candidate.”

“Well, tell her I hope I can live up to her expectations,” Neil responded with an almost embarrassed smile.

“I don’t think that’s going to be problem,” Steve said softly, his smile warm. 

Mike glanced at his watch. “Ooo say, we have a get a move on if we’re gonna hit a few houses tonight.” He looked up, trying to catch the waitress’s eye. “I’ll get the cheque.” He glanced at Neil. “We can talk more about this tomorrow, if that’s okay with you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

# # # # #

Armed with the photos of the four murdered homeless men, only two of whom had been identified as yet, the red-haired woman, and Margaret Jane Tolliver, the three men had no luck whatsoever at the four houses they managed to visit that evening. A young woman at one of the houses thought she recognized the latest victim from the morgue photo Steve showed her, but she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure. If it was the same man, she said, she had run into him pan-handling at Fisherman’s Wharf about three weeks before.

It was close to 11 when they dropped Neil off at the Oak Street house, with the agreement to meet for lunch the next day to discuss what they had started to call ‘The Project’, and headed home. And though their quest to move their case forward had gone for bust, they felt it had been a very successful day.

And, exhausted from their very long first day back, they both slept well.

# # # # #

They had taken the morning off, knowing they would have another late night, and met up with Neil at a diner on Divisadero. It was a good meeting, Mike laying out everything that Jeannie had managed to put into gear, and they brainstormed about what Neil could take over right away. Relieved, Mike gave him all the paperwork that had accumulated so far. And even though the middle-aged black man hadn’t said it outright, they knew he was fully on board.

Their conversation had continued at the car; they needed to head back to the Hall and Neil, armed with a small stack of Mike’s business cards and a handful of dimes to make phone calls to set up meetings, was going to start working on the contacts on the papers he’d been given. Mike was leaning against the front fender of the LTD, his eyes roaming the street as Steve and Neil talked. Suddenly he straightened up slightly, his attention obviously caught.

“What the hell’s going on over there?” he asked almost rhetorically, and the other two followed his gaze. Steve’s eyebrows shot up and Neil started to chuckle.


	43. Chapter 43

“You mean you’ve never heard of Brother Samuel?” Neil chuckled, his gaze returning to the lieutenant from the scene taking place down the block.

Steve, his hands on his hips, was staring through his dark glasses at the apparition that has caused his partner’s unusual outburst. He looked at Neil. “Who?”

“Brother Samuel.”

Mike frowned at him quizzically. “Ah, no, I try not to hang around The Haight anymore than I need to.”

Neil chuckled. “Understood. It is a… a different world down here, that’s for sure. Anyway, just so you know, those’re his women.” There was amusement in the deep voice.

“His women?” Mike echoed, his stare returning to the objects of his curiosity.

A block away, on the corner of Scott and Haight, they could see five woman in full length beige linen granny dresses and matching bonnets, looking very much like spectres from the 18th century. 

“They don’t seem to be doing anything,” Steve observed; they weren’t holding signs or showing any attempt at proselytizing. They were standing quietly in a row with their heads bowed, their hands clasped in front of them.

“They’re probably waiting,” Neil offered, shrugging. “He’s probably in that store on the corner there and they’re waiting for him.”

“Brother Samuel?” Mike asked, tearing his eyes away from the corner and looking at Neil.

“Umh-humh. He’s one of those self-proclaimed ‘Men of God’. Except he’s his own god, I think. He’s harmless. He’s got a… ‘temple’,” he rolled his eyes, “over on Steiner but it’s all very low key. And, I don’t know if you can tell from here or not,” he pointed down the street, “but his ‘flock’ are all older women.”

“Why?” Steve asked, intrigued.

Neil shrugged. “Who knows? He ain’t no Manson, that’s for sure.”

“How old is he?” Mike asked.

Neil shrugged again. “Same age as the women, I guess. I’ve only seen him once and that was from a distance as well. His ‘women’ are seen a lot more often, usually in groups like that.”

“If you’ve seen them out on their own before, how do you know he’s there right now?” Mike raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“‘Cause when they’re on their own, they’re always on the move, going somewhere. They never just stand around. So that’s why I’m pretty sure he’s here.” Neil looked from one detective to the other and chuckled. “He doesn’t make many appearances, so consider yourselves lucky if he comes out before you leave.”

“I’ll write it in my diary,” Mike mumbled sarcastically as he stood and moved to the passenger side door. He turned back with smirk. “I have no idea how I’ve managed to exist in this city without crossing paths with Brother Samuel before now.”

Chuckling, Steve slapped Neil on the arm as he crossed around the hood of the LTD to the driver’s side, fishing the keys out of his pocket. 

Neil leaned into the passenger side window, laughing softly. “So I’ll see you guys later tonight. Have a great afternoon.”

Mike grinned. “You too. And good luck,” he added, pointing at the papers in Neil’s hand and raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll give you a status report when I see you tonight.”

“Looking forward to it,” Mike laughed as the LTD pulled away from the curb.

# # # # #

“Homicide, Stone.”

“Yeah, Mike, it’s Gene.” Eugene Halston worked in R&I. “Listen, ah, we just got an I.D. on that latest homeless victim. A fingerprint match.”

The lieutenant sat up straighter, energized, and pulled a small pad of paper closer. “That’s great. Shoot.”

“It’s from Sacramento. John Peter Petrillo. P-E-T-R-I-L-L-O. No fixed address, of course. Seems he was picked up for vagrancy and D&D. Forty-three years old.”

Writing all this down, Mike asked, “Was he booked with anyone else, do you know?”

“He wasn’t, as far as we know. We’ve asked Sacramento PD to send us his file and I’ll get that to you as soon it arrives, but I don’t know how much it’ll help. We’re looking for a DMV photo. There’s nothing current so we’re going back a few years.”“Well, the file’ll have a mug shot, which is a lot better to flash around than a morgue photo, believe me. Thanks, Gene, I owe you.”

“No problem, Mike. Gad to be of help.” 

Mike hung up and got to his feet, picking up the pad and tearing off his glasses as he strode quickly to his partner’s desk. Steve was on the phone and he waited impatiently till the younger man hung up. The receiver had barely hit the cradle before Mike dropped the small notepad ceremoniously on the desk, nodding at it with raised eyebrows and an eager smile.

Frowning suspiciously, Steve looked at the scribblings on the paper. “John Peter…is that Petrillo?”

Mike nodded quickly. “Umh-humh. That’s our latest victim. R&I just got an I.D. on him. He’s from Sacramento.”

Steve looked up, amused at his partner’s enthusiasm. “That’s great but you do know it really doesn’t help us find his killer any faster, right?”

The older man’s shoulders sagged and his smile disappeared. “I know,” he mumbled, crestfallen, “but it’s another piece in the puzzle, isn’t it?”

Steve snorted gently in charmed derision. “You’re grasping at straws here, you know that, right?”

With a peeved frown, Mike snatched the pad from the desk and started back to his office. “You bet I am,” he called over his shoulder.

# # # # #

Forty-five minutes and a slew of phone calls later, Steve got up from his desk and, looking at the notations he’d made in his notebook, covered the short distance to his partner’s office. Mike, his black reading glasses on as he made notes on a legal length yellow pad in front of him, was deep in concentration, oblivious to the arrival.

Steve stared at him silently for a beat then stepped closer to the desk and leaned over, trying to see what the older man was writing. Belatedly sensing his presence, Mike glanced up, surprise momentarily visible on his face as he quickly leaned forward, putting both forearms on the desk, obscuring the pad. As Steve straightened up, smiling with innocent curiosity, Mike’s expression slid smoothly into slightly aggrieved anticipation.

“What, have you come in to rain on my parade again?” he asked pointedly.

Shaking his head, Steve’s smile got a little wider. “No no,” he replied quickly, “just, ah, just came in to inform my… superior officer about some of the calls I’ve just been making.”

“I see. Is, ah, is this something that can wait? I’m, ah, I’m a little busy here.” Without moving his arms, the cast managing to obscure the majority of the pad, he gestured at his messy desk with his right hand. 

Pursing his lips and nodding, a smug smile curling his lips, Steve took a step back towards the door. “Sure, sure…” He paused. “Ah, anything I can help you with?” he asked lightly, nodding towards the pad under his partners’s forearms.

Mike shook his head, smiling. “No, thanks, I’ve got it under control.”

Nodding, Steve continued to back towards the door. “Okay, well, if you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Okay.” He had backed through the doorway and started to turn towards his desk.

“Ah, close the door, will ya?”

“Ah, sure.” He leaned back and grabbed the knob, pulling the door closed, then crossed to his desk. He glanced over his shoulder; Mike was following his every move, a warmly amused smile on his face.

Chuckling, the older man reached for the receiver on his black phone and stuffed it under his left ear. He dialed three numbers and waited. “Hey, Pete, this is Mike Stone…. Yeah, yeah I know…. Listen, ah, I want to talk to a couple of your boys at shift change. Is that okay with you?…. Yeah, great. Ah, listen, let me tell you what I need and maybe you can give me an idea of who to talk to…. Great, thanks…”

# # # # #

With his tie loosened and collar button undone, his jacket and hat on, Mike Stone leaned against the back wall of the roll call room and waited for the duty sergeant to dismiss the large group in front of him. The decibel level in the room rose immediately as the uniformed patrolmen got to their feet and headed towards the door he was standing beside, his trained eyes scanning the nameplates as they streamed past.

Ignoring the curious glances that checked him out as they moved past, he pushed himself away from the wall as two officers moved closer. “Grady and Malone?” he asked as they pulled abreast of him and they stopped, frowning slightly.

“Yes, sir,” the young black officer, whose nameplate read Malone, nodded once, formally. The storied detective, whom they both recognized immediately, smile warmly and held out his right hand. “Mike Stone,” he introduced himself with a smile, shaking both hands.

“Ah, Phil Grady.”

“John Malone. Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant. Ah, what can we do for you?”

“Well,” Mike said, stuffing his right hand in his pants pocket and rocking on his heels, “ah, your captain said I could borrow you guys for a few minutes before your shift starts and pick your brains.” He glanced over his shoulder towards the exit with a genial smile. “Is there a place nearby that serves a good cup a Joe?”

# # # # #

Dropping the black receiver on the cradle, Steve looked towards the empty inner office. He had been in the middle of a call when his partner had crossed the bullpen, his hat on, mouthing, “I’ll meet you after dinner at the house,” and not waiting for a confirmation before he left.

Frowning, Steve got up and moved to the closed door, not even pausing as he circled the desk, a lot neater now than it was before, and sat. He opened the large top centre drawer and found the legal length yellow pad. It was blank, the top sheet obviously removed. He took it out and dropped it on the desk then opened the smaller top drawer on the right and took out a couple of pencils.

With a devilish grin, he got up and returned to the bullpen, pencils in hand, and crossed to the sharpener. When he had ground the lead to the length he wanted, he returned to the office and sat again. Then, very slowly, he rubbed the edge of one of the pencil leads lightly against the top sheet of the pad. It didn’t take long for the letters to become visible.

When he was finished, he sat back and grinned. He knew where Mike was and what he was doing.

# # # # #

“Brother Samuel?” Malone repeated, both his large hands wrapped around the huge white mug and glancing at his partner with a chuckle. “Sure, Lieutenant, we know who he is.” 

Grady, sitting beside his partner on the other bench of the small booth, was nodding as well.

Mike was leaning forward, his forearms on the table. He had already explained about the cast. “So what can you guys tell me about him?”

The patrolmen looked at each other with raised eyebrows. “What do you want to know?” Grady asked before taking a sip of coffee.

“Well, have you guys ever had a run-in with him, or any of his… his women?”

Malone was already shaking his head. Grady snorted. “You mean those old ladies who wear those granny dresses and hats?”

Mike chose to ignore the ‘old’ comment, knowing the women were most likely his own age or slightly younger, and nodded.

“No, never,” Malone intoned, still shaking his head. “We’ve never had any trouble with them.”

“No,” Grady added, “the only time we ever answered a call about them was when someone was harassing them. A couple of smart ass teenagers thought they were being funny.”

“And Brother Samuel?”

Both patrolmen shook their heads. “We’ve only talked to him a couple of times at community meetings but he’s always been pleasant. He seems like a really nice… but weird, kinda guy,” Malone laughed, picking up his cup and taking a sip.

“What do you mean by weird?” Mike asked with a chuckle.

Grady glanced at his partner and grinned. “Well, what else would you call a guy who starts his own religion and only allows old women to be his disciples?”


	44. Chapter 44

“Yeah, that is weird,” Mike acknowledged with a low chuckle. “So, ah, he has a… temple somewhere?”

Malone snorted. “Yeah, if you want to call it that. It’s just a house, really. There’s no cross on the lawn or anything, not even a sign.”“And it’s not painted black like that LaVey guy did over on California,” Grady put in.

Mike nodded. “Oh yeah, I know that place. That one looks creepy.” The two patrolmen chuckled. “Samuel’s place is over on Steiner?”

Malone chuckled. “Ah, Lieutenant…” he looked at his partner with raised eyebrows and they both grimaced slightly, “ah, we were told by one of the women that he prefers ‘Brother Samuel’ so…? Just in case you go talk to him…” He shrugged apologetically.

“Brother Samuel. Got it, thanks,” Mike laughed and both patrolmen grinned. 

“Yeah, the house is on Steiner,” Grady answered the question, “about four or five houses south of Waller on the east side. It’s light grey.” He shook his head, screwing up his features. “Sorry, I don’t know the number.” He looked at his partner and raised his eyebrows. 

Malone shook his head. “Me neither. Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Mike smiled. “I can find out if I need it.”

“You, ah, you interested in him for a murder?” Grady asked, obviously surprised.

Mike leaned back on the bench seat. “Well, I’m, ah, well, I’m grasping a straws, I guess you can say. My partner and I are trying to solve a series of murders of homeless men. Four so far.”

The partners exchanged a look again. “Yeah, we heard about those,” Malone said. “We’ve seen those photos that’ve been making the rounds but none of them ring a bell. You’re not having any luck?”

“Not a speck.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew the photos of the women and dropped them on the table. “Any bells here?”

Malone and Grady leaned over the table and stared then sat back, shaking their heads. “Sorry,” Grady said quietly. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Mike sighed in frustration as he picked the pictures up and stuffed them back in his pocket. He smiled. “I better let you guys get to work.” He stood and they followed, putting on their caps. He reached out to shake their hands again. “Thanks a lot, fellas. I appreciate you talking to me.”

“Sorry we couldn’t be more help,” Malone responded as he and his partner walked away.

Mike watched them go, then looked idly around the diner. It was starting to fill up. He glanceed at his watch, then sucked his teeth as he tried to decide what to do next.

# # # # #

It didn’t take long to find Brother Samuel’s ‘temple’. It was precisely where he had been told, four houses from the corner. And they were right; other than it’s somewhat tame paint job, it didn’t look all that different from its slightly more flamboyant neighbours. It was a large, well-kept Queen Anne, a little more silver than grey, with neat white trim. 

Mike had parked down the block and across the street. He had changed into the windbreaker and baseball cap he kept in the trunk to hopefully not be spotted as a cop quite as easily. Then he’d gone for a short walk around the block looking for a place to get take-out.

He was working on his second hotdog when the passenger side door opened and his partner slipped quickly into the seat, grinning wickedly. Mike had turned his head languidly, continuing to chew, not showing any sign of surprise.

After a beat, Steve’s face fell. “What, you’re not going to ask how I knew you were here?”

Mike took the time to finish chewing and swallow, then bent forward to pick up the plastic cup of ginger ale on the floorboard at his feet. 

“Am I supposed to?” He took a sip through the straw sticking out of the lid of the cup.

The younger man frowned. “Well, it’s not like you left me a map or a note or anything…”

“And you felt the need to track me down?” There was a lightness in Mike’s tone, and a slight smile on his lips, that took any sting out of his words. He casually leaned forward and put the cup back on the floor.

Steve stared at him with feigned annoyance. “Well, it wasn’t a… need. But I was curious. You weren’t exactly forthcoming.”

“I see. So, what? You took the pad out of my top drawer?”

The brows of the young inspector furrowed slowly and a smirk twisted his lips. He exhaled loudly. “So did you learn anything?”

“Learn anything from who?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. He knew Mike was being deliberately obtuse and he wasn’t going to rise to the bait. “There were only three words I needed to see to know where you were - Brother, Samuel and Northern.” He held up three fingers.

Mike smiled smugly and nodded once.

“So what were the odds you were going to talk to a few of the patrolmen from Northern who would know about Brother Samuel and his flock? I’da bet the house on that one.”

The older man laughed. “Well, Inspector,” he began with a head bobble, “I have to admit, that was a pretty sure bet.” He chuckled, settling back against the seat, his eyes snapping to the house and back again. “They couldn’t tell me much,” he said with a shrug, relaxing into detective mode once again. “Brother Samuel and his… flock stay off the radar, haven’t made waves and seem to be upstanding citizens, if a little reclusive.” His stare returned to the house.

“But you have your doubts?” Steve’s smile had disappeared.

Still looking at the Queen Anne, Mike shrugged slightly again, barely shaking his head. “I don’t know, buddy boy, I don’t know. I just have this… this -“

“Gut feeling?”

Mike turned to look at his partner, who was staring at him with a knowing smile. After a beat, he nodded, “Yeah…”

“Okay,” Steve said earnestly, the banter behind them. “That’s good enough for me.”

The older man swallowed heavily. “Thanks.” They held each other’s gaze for a long second then Mike looked back at the house.

“That’s it?” Steve asked, following Mike’s line of sight and resisting the urge to point. “The grey and white one?”

“Yeah. No one’s come in or out since I’ve been here. And I don’t know if anyone’s in there or they’re all out.”

Steve glanced at his watch. “Listen, ah, I’d like to grab a bite before we have to meet Neil. Can you recommend someplace close?” he asked with a chuckle.

“The hotdogs were pretty good.” Mike picked up an unused napkin from the seat beside him and tossed it closer, the logo side up. He nodded at it pointedly. “They’re just around the corner on Waller.”

Steve picked the napkin up and opened the door. “I’ll be right back.” As he was about get out, Mike stopped him.

“You know, I had to press really hard on that pad to make sure the impression was deep enough,” he chuckled with a smug smile.

# # # # #

The visits to the abandoned houses turned out to be a lot more successful on their second night. A woman recognized John Doe #1 and the red-headed woman he had been seen with; and she even had names. The man had introduced himself as Charlie and the woman as Beth. She had met them both twice and said they were very nice, very low-key and prone not to call attention to themselves, like most people on the street were wont to do. And the fact that Charlie had been murdered and Beth was now unaccounted for was something she could never have imagined, she said.

And Neil had some good news as well. He had made several in person visits to a couple of the restaurants on Jeannie’s list and, though he was met with severe skepticism at first, when he explained everything in more detail and showed Mike’s business card, the icy receptions began to thaw. And though he came away with no concrete results, the owners had asked him to return the next day. Assuming they were going to actually call the lieutenant for confirmation before agreeing to anything, he warned Mike to expect a few phone calls at the office tomorrow.

Chuckling, Mike fished into his jacket pocket for a few more cards, telling Neil to give them to his contacts and that he would field the calls gladly, especially if it meant he didn’t have to do anymore of the heaving lifting. Laughing, Neil agreed.

Mike dropped him off at the Oak Street house just before midnight, with the promise to meet up again the next night to recon a few more houses, then turned to his partner in the passenger seat. “Where did you park, by the way?”

“Oh, ah, over on Fulton, near Laguna. It was the closest space I could find.” He chuckled. “I hope it’s still there…”

“Me too, or you’ll be explaining it to the car pool.” They both laughed.

“Listen, ah, what time do you want to start tomorrow?” Steve asked, settling back as his partner pulled the tan LTD away from the curb.

“Well, I’m tempted to say noon ‘cause we’re keeping such late hours, but I want to park myself outside Brother Samuel’s temple again for a few hours… just for, you know, to satisfy my curiosity,” he said haltingly with a slight shrug as he glanced across the front seat, “and we need to get to work on those names we got tonight.”

Steve exhaled loudly. “Yeah… Charlie and Beth. That narrows it down, to a few million people,” he chuckled ironically. “Why couldn’t they have had names like… I don’t know, Ferdinand and Isabella…?” He laughed and his partner joined him.

Mike shot him a warm smile. “You been reading historical fiction again?”

“Yeah…. Listen, uh, why don’t we split up tomorrow; you can go straight to ‘the temple’,” he said with sarcastic emphasis, “and I’ll start to work on a name search on a Charles and Elizabeth Doe.”

“Sounds like a great plan to me, Inspector,” Mike smiled as he turned onto Fulton. It was easy to spot the forest green Galaxie halfway up the block. He stopped behind it. “Get a good night’s sleep,” he instructed as the younger man got out. 

“You too.” Steve slammed the door and, fishing the keys out of his pocket, crossed to the Galaxie.

# # # # #

Unable to stop himself, Mike turned onto Steiner and let the large sedan glide slowly down the deserted street. As he crossed Waller, he touched the brakes, slowing the car even more, and glanced up at the grey-and-white Queen Anne. Even at this late hour, there were lights on in several rooms in the stately old house.

Intrigued, he circled the block, then pulled to the curb just around the corner from Waller, turning off the engine and the lights. He slumped in the seat, trying to make himself less visible, and stared at the house.

# # # # #

Steve dragged himself up the short switchback staircase to his front door. He was more tired than he cared to concede to, reluctant to admit, even to himself, that he wasn’t a hundred percent yet. Luckily the work they had been doing was more cerebral than physical, even with all the driving around and climbing stairs.

He had stopped on the way home at a bodega he knew stayed open until 1 and bought himself a fresh bag of salted sunflower seeds. He’d been running low, and he knew it would be awhile until he could unwind enough to get to sleep.

On a whim, he picked up the phone and dialled his partner’s number, not in the least surprised when the call wasn’t answered. He knew exactly where Mike was and he wasn’t happy about it.

He was going to have to have a little talk with his partner in the morning…


	45. Chapter 45

It was a little past nine, and Steve was on the phone, when the Homicide office door opened and a very weary-looking Mike Stone moved slowly across the bullpen to his office, not even bothering with a glance in his partner’s direction. Uncharacteristically, his unknotted tie was draped around his neck and his collar button undone, his hat askew; it was more an end-of-a long-day as opposed to a start-of-a-new-day sartorial statement.

Steve had looked up perfunctorily, then did a double-take, frowning, as the older man stopped at the coat rack just inside the office door and dropped the fedora unceremoniously on top before slowly circling the desk and sinking heavily into the chair.

Finishing the call, Steve got up, picking up the pad he had been making notes on, and crossed to the inner office door. He paused and stared in; Mike was leaning forward, his elbows on his desk and his right hand over his eyes. Trying to contain a smug smile, Steve stepped into the room. “What time did you finally get home?” he asked without preamble, unable to keep a tiny bit of snark from creeping into his voice.

Mike slowly raised his head, his eyes narrowed; Steve couldn’t tell if it was from annoyance or exhaustion. “What?”

Chuckling, Steve dropped into the guest chair. “I know you went back to Brother Samuel’s.” When Mike’s brow furrowed even more, he tilted his head audaciously. “It didn’t take a Sherlock, you know. I called your house when I got home last night and you didn’t answer. So… two plus two…” He shrugged.

“Good for you,” Mike mumbled as he dropped his head onto his hand again, rubbing his fingers over his eyes as if trying to wake himself up.

“So what time did you get home?”

Mike dropped his hands, the cast hitting the desk with unintended force, causing both men to wince slightly. Then, blinking exaggeratedly, Mike shrugged slightly. “About two hours ago.”

“What?” Steve blurted out with a surprised laugh.

His partner lowered his head slightly like a dog being scolded. “I fell asleep in the car. I woke up when the garbage truck started down the street.”

Trying not to chuckle, and to look commiserating, Steve asked earnestly, “What time was that?”

Mike sighed heavily. “6:30…ish…”

“What time do you think you fell asleep?”

The older man shook his head vaguely and shrugged. “I don’t know… 3… 3:30…?”

Steve frowned. “Why did you stay there so late? Was something going on?”

Mike shook his head again. “Nope, not a thing. There were lights on all through the house, that’s why I stopped in the first place. And they never went off. They were still on when I woke up.” He looked blankly around the office for a couple of seconds, licking his lips and swallowing dryly. 

“You want a cup of coffee?” Steve asked eventually, taking belayed pity.

Mike nodded vacantly. “Yeah, thanks.”

Laughing softly to himself, the younger man tossed the notepad on the desk and stood, moving to the coffee station in the bullpen. When he returned to the inner office, Mike hadn’t moved, his eyes closed. Steve put the cup on the desk in front of him. At the soft thud, the older man opened his eyes and a very tiny smile crossed his lips. “Thanks,” he mumbled, picking up the cup in both hands and taking a sip. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Steve dropped back into the guest chair and picked up the notebook. He glanced up at his partner and grinned, chuckling silently, then said, a little louder than necessary, “So, seeing as you’ve come in earlier than you were going to, you want to hear what I was up to already this morning?”

Mike’s eyes opened slowly. “I’m glad one of us was productive…” he smiled slightly, taking another sip and hanging onto the cup.

“Well, it’s only a start, a very very early start, but I talked to Barry in Missing Persons about anyone named Charles or Elizabeth, or even Beth, in their files, and told him the age range, so he can eliminate the really young and the really old. He said he’d get back to us as soon as he could. And I also started to put together a flyer, with the photos, possible names and vitals, that I’m going to fax - or get Art to fax,” he chuckled, “to all the departments in the state, with a focus on the cities and large towns. It’s gonna take awhile, I know, but as we already know one guy was in the L.A. area at one time and another in Sacramento, chances are ‘Charlie’ may have come here from somewhere else as well.” He shrugged.

Mike had been nodding slowly, staring at him through heavy-lidded eyes and taking small sips of coffee as he listened. Steve wasn’t sure if what he was saying was sinking in or not.

“Good thinking,” the lieutenant said thickly, his head still bobbing gently. “You know, there was something I thought of last night, while I was sitting there staring at the house, trying - unsuccessfully, I realize now - to stay awake.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“All of our dead guys were seen with women. So where are they?” Mike’s eyebrows rose and he stared at his young partner. “Why haven’t we found any female bodies? I mean, not that I want that, don’t misunderstand me, but why only the men?”

Steve leaned back slowly, pursing his lips. “That’s why you’re so interested in Brother Samuel, isn’t it?”

Mike tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, then slowly took another sip of coffee. “Well, you know how much I love coincidences…”

“Do you want to go talk to him?”

Putting the cup down, Mike shook his head. “Not yet. I don’t want to tip our hand that we’re looking at him for anything right now. I want a lot more information before we even entertain the idea of talking to him.”

“So what are you thinking?” Steve asked, knowing the veteran detective would already have a plan in mind.

“Well, I want to talk to Charlie, see if we can… borrow one of their photographers. I want to get some shots of the good Brother and his… his flock. But we’ve got to be careful; like I said, I don’t want to tip our hand. And I have a feeling they’re not as… oblivious to things as people seem to think. And it’ll probably take some time, ‘cause I gather from what Neil said, he doesn’t go out very often. But it’s the women I’m more interested in.”

“You want me to give Charlie a call, see when he’s available to talk?”

Mike smiled. “Yeah, thanks. You’ll probably sound a little more… coherent than me right now.”

Chuckling, Steve got up. “Have you had any breakfast yet?”

The older man nodded at the cup in front of him. “That’s it so far.”

“You need something to eat. What do you want?”

“I don’t care.” He looked down at the desk again, then dropped his head and closed his eyes with an, “Oh god…”

“What?” Steve asked from the door, frowning.

Mike picked up several pink messages they were stuffed under his phone. “Calls from restaurant owners…” He looked up plaintively. “I’ve got to call them all back.”

With a chuckle, the younger man nodded. “Look, ah, I’ll arrange for somebody to go out and get you a Danish or something and I’ll call Charlie, and you… you just sit there and answer those calls, okay?”

Mike’s woebegone gaze at the phone shifted to his partner. “I gotta stop sleeping in the car all night. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, ah, I was gonna rake you over the coals about that exact thing, but you seem to be doing a pretty good job of it yourself so…” He shrugged with a warm smile. He was just about to walk away when he turned back and pointed at the older man. “Ah, you might want to think about knotting your tie… the image thing, you know…” Chuckling, he headed back to his desk.

Mike looked down at the blue-and-red diagonally striped tie hanging around his neck and sighed.

# # # # #

Things slowed down for the remainder of the day. Steve got the flyer ready and Sekulovich assigned a rookie fresh out of the academy to do the dirty work of actually sending out all the faxes. Missing Persons came up with a very short list of names of missing people whose first or middle names were either Charles or Elizabeth. He made a few phone calls and before he knew it the list had, unfortunately, been whittled down to nothing. 

Mike returned the phone calls from the restaurant owners, assuring them of Neil’s provenance, then fielded two more calls, one from another restaurant and one from a stationary store that said they were willing to donate some school supplies.

He had just hung up on the stationary store when he received a call from a construction company in Oakland that was refitting a school and had some old desks to donate, then another from the used car salesman brother-in-law of the Robbery lieutenant who explained that he had just taken in a beat-up old Chevy Suburban on trade that he was willing to ‘donate to the cause’, as he put it. 

By the time he stumbled out of his office and threw himself into his partner’s guest chair, he was beginning to wonder if he still worked in Homicide. 

In the middle of his own phone call, Steve glanced up and smothered a chuckle. When he finally put the receiver back on the cradle, he looked over; Mike was stretched out in the chair, his legs crossed at the ankles, his fingers laced over his stomach and his eyes closed. Feeling the amused stare boring a hole into the side of his head, he opened his eyes. “Remind me when she gets home at Thanksgiving to kill my daughter…” he growled softly.

Steve chuckled again. “Got all your phone calls finished?” he asked facetiously and watched as the blue eyes narrowed.

“Ha ha.” He glanced down at the legal length pad on the desk. “Please tell me you have some information about the case, even if it’s just to remind me what my day job actually is…”

Grinning, Steve absent-mindedly straightened out the pad of paper. “As a matter of fact, Lieutenant, I do. Charlie can see us in,” he looked at his watch, “forty-five minutes, so if you want to go out and grab a quick, and somewhat late, lunch, we’ve got time.”

Mike was already starting to get to his feet. “Oh, yes, please, before my phone rings again!”

# # # # #

The photographer Charlie recommended turned out to be a young woman that neither Mike or Steve had met before. With her curly dark hair and perpetual smile, the plumpish, bespectacled Sara Peterson looked barely out of her teens but she was actually in her late 20’s and had been a professional photographer for years. And she definitely knew what she was doing, Charlie boasted when he introduced the two homicide detectives to his latest hire.

“So what do you need me to do, Lieutenant Stone?” she asked brightly as she shook their hands, getting right to the point.

As Charlie disappeared to leave them to have at it, Mike perched on a nearby lab stool and Steve leaned against the counter. “Well,” the older man began, “we need you to take some surreptitious pictures of some people who live in the Lower Haight area. A… a ‘man of the cloth’ I guess you could call him -“

“Brother Samuel?” she interrupted, her bright dark eyes snapping from one detective to the other.

They glanced at each other. “You know him?” Steve asked.

She shook her head quickly. “No, no, but I know of him. I used to wander the Haight a lot and take pictures of the locals.”

Mike frowned. “So they know you there?”

She grinned and shook her head. “Not really. You see, people like me, people that look like me and walk around with cameras with big lenses… everybody thinks they’re tourists. After ’67, the Haight became a magnet for tourists… but I don’t need to tell you guys that, right?”

Both detectives shook their heads.

She smiled widely and there was a maturity and understanding in her expression that told them she was someone who really knew what she was doing. “And don’t worry, Lieutenant, I’ve got a very big lens.”


	46. Chapter 46

As they rode back upstairs in the elevator, Steve stole a sideways glance at his partner. Mike, his fedora slightly askew, was leaning against the back of the car, his arms folded, his head down and his eyes closed. The doors opened with a soft chime accompaniment and Steve stepped out into the corridor, putting a hand on the door to stop it from closing again as the older man almost belatedly pushed himself upright and slowly followed.

“Listen, ah,” the inspector said softly, trying not to chuckle, “why don’t you take the rest of the day off and go home and get some sleep. I’ll make the rounds with Neil tonight. I do know what to ask, you know.”

They had reached the door to the Homicide bureau and he opened it, waiting for his partner to shuffle through it. Mike stopped just inside the anteroom door and looked back. “Are you making me an offer I can’t refuse?” he asked with a low growl, starting to smile.

“Something like that,” Steve laughed, slapping him on the arm. “What do you say?”

Mike inhaled deeply, staring at the younger man with unabashed affection. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. But I want to see what R&I has dug up for us about Brother Samuel, if anything. I want to give them a call.” His smile got a little wider as they moved deeper into the bullpen. “Is that okay with you?”

“That’s perfectly fine with me,” Steve chuckled as he took off his jacket and dropped it over the back of his chair while Mike continued on to his office.

He circled the desk, frowning slightly when he spotted a file folder he didn’t recognize in the middle of his desk. Even without his glasses he could read the writing on the tab: ‘Brother Samuel’. He leaned slightly in the direction of the door and raised his voice. “It’s already here!”

He sank into the chair as he opened the folder, fishing into his inside jacket pocket for his glasses as Steve entered the office and dropped into the guest chair, leaning back slightly as he started to roll up his sleeves. The younger man stayed silent as he watched the blue eyes scan the file.

It took only a few seconds before Mike looked up, frowning. “Nothing.”

Steve snorted a short, surprised laugh. “What?”

The older man shrugged. “They have nothing.” He turned the folder around so his partner could see it; there were only a few lines of information on an otherwise blank sheet, none of it telling them anything they didn’t already know.

“Well, that’s just great, isn’t it,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I guess if he hasn’t broken any laws, why would they have a file on him?” he asked rhetorically with a slight shrug.

Mike was staring into space, his brow furrowed. He sighed heavily. “Well, I still want to find out more about him. And I want to do it without him or any of his… flock - god, I hate that word, makes them sound like sheep - finding out we’re doing it.” His eyes focused on the young man on the other side of the desk. “So how are we gonna go about doing that?”

Steve leaned back and made a face, his eyebrows rising. “Good question. I mean, we don’t even know if Samuel is his real name. Or if he’s even from here.”

“Yeah, and it’s not like either of us can go undercover and join his… congregation,” Mike groused, his face breaking into a grin as he chuckled, then dropped his head into his right hand, his shoulders shaking.

Steve started to laugh as well. “Ah, yeah. You’re the right age but not the right gender…”

“And I’d make a butt-ugly woman no matter how much make-up I used,” the older man laughed and they both enjoyed the moment. Mike exhaled loudly and raised his eyebrows. “Somehow I don’t think we could… infiltrate his little coven anyway, even with an undercover policewoman. I have a feeling that they are the ones that do the… recruiting, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“And maybe they are as squeaky clean as it seems,” Steve offered with a slight shrug. 

Mike stared at him for a long second. “Maybe… but I want to find out.” He closed the file and looked at his watch. “Listen, ah, Don Corleone,” he chuckled softly, “I’m gonna take your offer and get outa here. If you find out anything tonight that you think I should know about, I want you to give me a call, okay? Even if it’s after midnight. I don’t want any surprises tomorrow.” He raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point then tried unsuccessfully to smother a yawn.

Steve smiled, starting to get to his feet. “I promise, Lieutenant, I promise. No surprises.”

“Good. And I’ll expend what little energy I have left in my brain cells and try to figure out a way we can learn more about our Brother Samuel.”

# # # # #

The third night of canvassing houses turned up nothing and Steve dragged himself home feeling frustrated and exhausted. And, with no reason to call Mike, after a late night beer and munching on a few sunflower seeds, he dropped into bed, hoping to be able to sleep in. He gave the option of putting the phone in the fridge serious consideration then decided against it, in case Mike, or someone else, really needed to get ahold of him in an emergency.

He had just turned off the bedside lamp when the phone rang and he jumped, his heart starting to race from the surprise. He glanced at the clock/radio then picked up the receiver, not even bothering to turn the light back on. “Couldn’t sleep?” he chuckled as he brought the receiver to his ear.

“As a matter of fact, I just woke up,” his partner’s warm laugh wafted over the line to his ear. “I figured you’d still be awake. Was I right?”

Smiling to himself, Steve pushed himself up in the bed to lean against the headboard. “Yeah, I’m still up. And before you ask, tonight was a bust. Nobody recognized anybody. Which in itself, if you ask me, is starting to sound like a pattern.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking that too. I mean, I know we have a lot of homeless people here, like any big city, but for our four victims not to be recognized, and I mean really recognized and not just ‘well, I think I saw him…’, that smacks of something else…”

“Yeah…”

“And that got me thinking about something else too,” Mike continued, and Steve smiled again. He loved it when his partner bounced things off him; it upped both their games. “If no one recognized them, then that probably means they weren’t in town very long, and if that’s the case, why? I mean, what, did they get, I don’t know, ambushed just after they got into town… and, just as importantly, how did they get to town? I think we can rule out flying… but people still ride the rails, don’t they?”

“I’m pretty sure they do, yeah.”

“Well, then that’s a possibility, but a couple, a man and a woman, ridin’ the rails…?” Mike sounded skeptical. “That doesn’t sound very plausible to me - and I’m not getting chauvinistic here, but it just doesn’t. To me, anyway. So what does that leave? The bus… and hitchhiking. Again… somebody picking up a couple? It’s possible, because a woman might, I don’t know, lessen the risk of picking up a psycho in some people’s minds. But then, if they did get here by hitchhiking, we’ll don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of tracing that.”

“So that leaves the bus…” Steve continued with the thought. “Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, off the top I can’t think of another way, and I doubt they walked from L.A. and Sacramento…”

“Right.”

“Good thinking, Lieutenant,” the younger man chuckled. “But, ah, but how does that help us?”

There was a slight pause. “You had to ask that, didn’t you?” came the growly reply, punctuated with a dry chuckle. “Yeah…. I’m not really sure.”

“You’re not thinking of staking out the bus depot, are you?”

There was another pause, this one a little longer. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, but I’m honestly not sure what we’d be looking for. I mean, what? We find a middle-aged man and woman, that look indigent, getting off the bus and then follow them around in case someone tries to kill the man? And it’s not like it’s happening every day, so we could be there for weeks waiting for a homeless couple to get off a bus. And what if they don’t look homeless…” Mike was beginning to sound more and more desperate as he tied himself in knots and Steve started to laugh. After a couple of seconds there was a curt, “What’s so funny?”

“Ah, nothing… nothing. You just sound like you’ve, well, been busy. Are you sure you got some sleep?”

There was a very audible sigh. “Yes, lots as a matter of fact. I missed dinner.”

Steve laughed again. “So what do you want to do with this… this brainstorm of yours?”

“I’m not sure. Let me think about it some more and let you know tomorrow. And speaking of which, don’t go in so early tomorrow. Neither of us is a hundred percent yet and I want us to be when all this finally… comes to a head, so to speak. Oh, ah, are we finished with those houses to check out?”

“Yeah, Neil and I did the last tonight. Unless more come up. But it’s not really panning out anyway so…? Oh, ah, speaking of Neil, he’s been working his ass off from what I gather. He said he’d call you sometime tomorrow afternoon and bring you up speed. But it sounds like things are going really well.”

Mike chuckled softly. “Well, at least something is. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up without waiting for a reply.

Steve took the receiver away from his ear and looked at it before dropping it back on the cradle with a chuckle. He flopped back onto the bed. And he was still smiling warmly when he dropped off to sleep.

# # # # # 

Mike was on the phone when Steve strolled into the bullpen just before noon the next day. He was waved into the inner office before he could take his coat off.

“Yes, yes, I’m still here…” Mike said into the phone, which he tucked under his left ear so, with his right hand now free, he could pick up a small pile of 5x7 black-and-white photos and toss them to the other side of the desk. He raised his eyebrows and mouthed, ‘Photos from Sara’, and nodded at the prints.

Frowning slightly, Steve sat in the guest chair and picked up the photos, thumbing through them slowly while his partner finished his call. They were shots, at a long distance, of Brother Samuel and a few of his supplicants. Facial details were hard to discern.

Mike hung up then pointed at the prints in Steve’s hand, raising his eyebrows. The younger man hefted the photos slightly. “Did she take these yesterday?”

“No,” Mike shook his head. “Those are from a few months ago. Remember she said she took pictures in the Haight just for fun. She dug those out for us. But I did hear from her this morning. Seems Samuel - sorry, Brother Samuel and his ilk were nowhere to be found yesterday so she’s heading out again today.”

“Well, like we told her, it could take days.”

“Yeah…” For a brief second, Mike looked disappointed, then he brightened up. “Oh, ah, that was the bus station,” he nodded towards the phone. “I talked to one of the managers. Ran the whole ‘homeless people on a bus’ theory by him. And he says, yeah, they see a lot of people arriving every day with what looks like their worldly possessions with him.” He paused, the implications of what he had just said sinking in.

“So, ah, you want to go down there and check things out?” Steve asked quietly after a beat.

Mike looked at him and smiled. “You bet I do.”


	47. Chapter 47

“So, there are buses that arrive all the time, like every twenty minutes or so, so we could waste a lot of time just… hanging around,” Mike continued with a mildly frustrated head bobble, “and I want to have more ammunition before we even think about staking out the bus station.”

“What kind of ammunition?” Steve asked with a slight frown, leaning back in the guest chair and running his right hand through his hair.

The older man pointed at the black-and-white photos on the desk. “More pictures. I want pictures of Brother Samuel and his… congregation that actually show their faces, their features.”

Steve’s frown deepened slightly. “What, you think they’re stalking the bus station, preying on the new arrivals?”

Mike cocked his head and shrugged. “You got a better theory?” When Steve paused for a quick beat then shook his head with a soft snort, he smiled wryly. “Well, neither do I.”

“Why are you so hung up on Brother Samuel and his brood?”

His partner’s eyebrows shot up and he pointed across the desk with his right forefinger. “Brood…. I like that. But it’s still not the right word…. I’ll find it.” He smiled with a brief chuckle and let his hand drop to the desk. He inhaled deeply and shrugged again. “I don’t know. When I saw those… women dressed like they were, standing on that corner, it just… I don’t know, twigged something in my mind…. Maybe it was their age, I don’t know…. But I’ve learned over the years when my gut tells me something, I better listen to it.” He laughed self-consciously.

Steve grinned. “Well, just so you know, I’ve learned to listen to it too.” He glanced down at the desk and raised his eyebrows. “So, what? We wait till we get some better photos from Sara?”

Mike mirrored the look. “I guess that’s all we can do. Oh, there is one thing I’d like you to do this afternoon. And I don’t know why I didn’t think about this earlier but, you know…” He glanced at the cast on his left forearm, bobbled his head and rolled his eyes. “I want you to find out who owns the house.”

“The ‘temple’?”

“Yeah, the temple. If Brother Samuel owns it, it’s gotta be in his own name, so that could tell us a lot. And find out if he’s registered the church as a religious organization or a charity. If so, that paperwork’ll help too.”

Steve nodded. “Good thinking, Lieutenant. I’ll get right on that.” He got to his feet and started out the door. Then he paused and turned back; he wasn’t smiling. “For what it’s worth, I think your gut is on the right track.”

Mike stared at him silently for a long beat, then he nodded.

# # # # #

Mike was going over the sparse files once more when he heard Steve’s phone ring and watched through the glass wall as his partner picked up the receiver. The young man’s casual demeanour suddenly changed to full alert; he sat up straighter and leaned over the desk, dropping the volume of his voice. Mike watched surreptitiously, idly picking up the black-and-white photos of Brother Samuel’s clan and pretending to study them.

About five minutes later Steve hung up then sat quietly for almost a full minute before finally getting slowly to his feet and crossing the short distance to the inner office door. Mike looked up expectantly but didn’t say anything.

Steve took a deep breath before asking quietly, “You got a second?”

Mike smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he said quickly, tossing the photos on the desk and gesturing vaguely and automatically at the guest chair.

Steve took a step further into the office, closed the door and slid onto the chair, looking down. The phone call had obviously rattled him. Mike waited patiently. After a few silent seconds, the younger man raised his head. “That, ah, that was the woman from The Catholic Charities,” he said softly.

“Oh?” Mike leaned forward, laying his forearms on the desk and lacing his fingers. “What did she have to say?”

Steve was looking down at the desk, his gaze unfocused. “Ah, she said they interviewed the Williams’ family, immediate and extended, and friends and co-workers, people they go to church with… and they have decided to let the grandparents adopt the kids.” He looked up at his partner and shrugged.

Meeting the younger man’s unreadable stare, Mike exhaled heavily. “So, ah, so how do you feel about that?”

Steve dropped his head and shook it. “I don’t know, I really don’t.”

“Did she say what… shaped their decision?”

The younger man leaned back suddenly, pushing the front legs of the chair off the ground, and stared at the ceiling. “She said the grandparents were the only family they could find, and they felt it was their best, and only, choice.” He sounded angry and disappointed.

“And you told her about your misgivings?”

Still looking at the ceiling, Steve nodded. “Yeah, she knows how I feel. But it’s not up to me, right?” He brought the front legs of the chair down with a bang.

Mike unlaced his fingers and reached across the desk. His partner was beyond his reach but the gesture was unmistakable. “Do me a favour, will you? Get out of here, go for a walk. Right now.” His blue eyes bored into the angry, clouded face that was turned away. “I mean it, Steve. Please… for me…?”

The green eyes slowly turned in his direction and there was a long tense moment then STeve nodded. “Yeah…. Yeah, all right…” He shot to his feet, opened the door and strode quickly towards his desk, snagging his jacket as he passed.

Mike watched him go then sighed heavily as he looked down at his desk.

# # # # #

It was more than two hours later before Steve returned to the office, a large manila envelope in his hand. Mike glanced up, looking over his glasses as he watched his partner cross to his own desk, take off his jacket, then approach the inner office with the envelope. With an amused smile that he hoped wouldn’t be misinterpreted, he chuckled, “Where did you walk to? Sausalito?” When he was rewarded with a smug but relaxed smile, he knew the break had done the young man a lot of good.

“Ha ha. I’ll have you know, I put my time to good use. I walked over to City Hall and visited the County Clerk’s office.” He held up the envelope triumphantly. “I got the info on who owns the house on Steiner.” He sat heavily in the guest chair and held his right hand out, palm up. When Mike looked at him blankly, he chuckled. “Letter opener, please.”

Frowning slightly, Mike opened the top drawer and took out the the thin silver blade. “You didn’t open it?”

Steve cocked his head with a grin. “It was your idea. I thought we’d share the moment.”

Chuckling warmly, Mike handed the opener over and Steve slit the top of the envelop, then pulled out the contents. There were two sheets of paper, photocopies, the top one a form. He tossed the envelope on the desk as he eyes quickly scanned the first page.

“So?” Mike asked eagerly.

Steve frowned. “Well, we have a new name. The house is owned by a Martin Cargill. And he bought it eight years ago.”

“Martin Cargill?” Mike repeated to himself, frowning in disappointment. “I wonder if that’s Brother Samuel’s real name?”

Steve made a face and shrugged, still studying the form. “Whoever it is, he paid $15,000 for it. That was a good deal…”

Mike snorted. “Well, it’s a ‘happening’ part of town now but eight years ago, that wasn’t the best neighborhood. And it probably needed work.”

Steve cocked his head. “Yeah.” He shuffled the papers, his eyes scanning the second sheet. “And, no, Brother Samuel’s ‘church’ is not registered anywhere, for anything.”

“Well, that’s not a lot but at least we have another name.” He smiled dryly. “So you know what you have to do now. Right?”

The younger man snorted. “I know, I know. Run Martin Cargill through R&I and DMV and see if they can tell us who he is… and where he is. And if he’s now ‘Brother Samuel’.”

Mike pointed his right forefinger at him. “You got it.”

# # # # #

Mike walked back into the bullpen around 4, having spent the better part of the last two hours bringing Captain Olsen and Chief of Detectives Conden up to speed on the current open Homicide cases. It had been the first time Mike had briefed them together since the earthquake and the meeting had lasted longer than it usually did as they peppered him with questions about what had transpired at the warehouse and how he and Steve were doing, both physically and mentally.

He stopped at his partner’s desk on the way to his office and rolled his eyes theatrically. Steve chuckled. “Well, at least that’s over with for awhile.”

“I sure hope so.” He cleared his throat. “I need a coffee. I haven’t talked for that long and that much in a long time.” He wandered to the coffee station.

“Ah, listen, Mike,” Steve’s voice followed him, uncharacteristically hesitant, “ah, I just got a call from Jennifer and, ah, and she’s free tonight…. And, ah -?”

“And you were wondering if you could spend it together?” Mike finished for him with an amused smile as he poured a cup of coffee.

“Ah… yeah…”

Mike laughed. “Of course. As a matter of fact, both John and Rudy told me to make sure both of us got enough time off to fully recuperate.” He frowned suddenly in feigned gravity. “What you’re going to do with Jennifer tonight, that’s recuperation, right?”

“Ah…right… yeah, of course,” Steve replied slowly, trying not to smile.

Mike raised his eyebrows and nodded once, pursing his lips. “Well, then, I think you should get out of here and get started on that. It’s the captain’s orders after all.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve laughed, starting to quickly pile the papers on his desk. He glanced up to see his partner, his eyes dancing, take his fresh cup of coffee into his office, chuckling.

# # # # #

Mike glanced at his watch. 6:10. He grimaced. He had been hoping to get home earlier but once again had lost track of time. He had just started to roll down his sleeves when the outer door opened and Sara Peterson shot into the bullpen, a large manila envelop in one hand and her camera bag over her shoulder. She crossed to the inner office door and almost slid to a stop, her face alight. 

“Lieutenant,” she nodded in greeting, almost bursting out of her skin as she stepped closer to the desk and held the envelope out. “I had a very successful day. Not only did I get great shots of all the women but Brother Samuel made an appearance today too. I got great shots of him too.”

Mike was smiling at her, a little overwhelmed, but delighted, at her obvious enthusiasm. “Wow, that’s… great.” He took the envelop and opened the clasp, sliding a thick stack of photos out onto the desk. He could tell from the top one that they were close-up and in perfect focus. He looked up at her and nodded in approval.

She beamed, glancing quickly at her watch. “Listen, ah, I hate to drop this and run, but I have to be somewhere for work in about fifteen minutes. Sorry.” She pointed at the photos as she backed towards the door. “If you want me to take some more, just give Charlie a call and he’ll get in touch with me. Thanks, Lieutenant.” Without waiting for a response, she spun on her heel and almost raced across the bullpen.  
Mike watched her go with a chuckle then looked down at the desk, a very pleased smile on his face as he slowly worked his way through the pile of about thirty photos. Suddenly he froze. Slowly, without taking his eyes from the image in front of him, he reached into the top drawer and removed a magnifying glass. He brought it to his right eye and stared through it. “Son of a bitch…”


	48. Chapter 48

The timer buzzed and he jumped slightly, tossing an angry glance in the direction of the annoying sound. Dropping the magnifying glass on the table, he got to his feet and took two quick steps to the stove, opening the over door. He reached in to take the small metal baking pan out then stopped himself with a grunt, reaching for the pot holder on the counter and wrapping his hand around it before he continued. 

Straightening up, he dropped the hot pan on a cold burner and transferred the pot holder to the fingers of his left hand, gingerly holding the pan while he used the metal turner to slip the reheated lasagna out of the pan and onto the plate.

He put the plate on the table and sat again, hardly taking his eyes off the 5x7 black-and-white photos scattered across the top. He picked up the fork and cut a piece of the lasagna off, then changed his mind when he got the steaming hot pasta close to his mouth. He put the fork down and picked up the magnifying glass instead.

He stared at a photo then glanced up at the wall phone over his head. He couldn’t begin to count the number of times he’d almost picked up the receiver and dialled his partner’s number then stopped himself. He’d promised Steve a night off and he was going to make sure he got it but, boy, it was hard.

# # # # #

Steve had barely gotten through the anteroom door when a bellowed “I was wondering when you were going to get in!” came out of nowhere. He jerked to a stop, frowning, and looked at his watch. 

“I’m not late!” he called towards the open inner office door, unable to see his partner past the doorframe, as the others in the room laughed quietly. 

Tanner happened to be walking past and whispered sotto voce, “He’s been like a bear with a sore butt for the past hour waiting for you to get in.”

“Do you know why?” Steve asked quietly.

The black inspector shook his head inconspicuously. “I have no idea. Good luck.”

“Thanks…” Choosing to keep his jacket on for the moment, he bypassed his desk entirely and went directly to his partner’s office, his eyebrows and hands raised in confusion. “What? I’m not late,” he repeated plaintively, trying to figure out what was going on.

His expression unreadable, Mike pointed past him. “Come in and close the door,” he said quickly. 

Steve did as he was told, then sat in the guest chair, his brow furrowed. He’d already figured out that Mike’s mood was more enthusiasm than anger. The older man was leaning over his desk, his forearms tucked close to his body against the edge. He caught the younger man’s eyes then looked deliberately down at his desk. Steve followed the look; the entire top was covered with 5x7 black-and-white photos of what he assumed were Brother Samuel and the women.

He looked back up. “Sara took these?”

“Umh-humh. Yesterday.” Mike was looking very pleased.

“This is what you’re all excited about?”

The smile wavered briefly, replaced by annoyance, then quickly returned when the lieutenant picked up the magnifying glass near his right elbow and held it out. “Take a closer look.”

Warily, Steve took the lens. “So… what am I looking for?”

Keeping his mouth closed, Mike raised his eyebrows.

“Okay…” Bringing the glass to his right eye, Steve started to move it slowly over the photos. The clarity was enough that a magnifying glass wasn’t really needed but he wasn’t one to second guess his more experienced partner.

Brother Samuel reminded him of an aging Friar Tuck, a pleasant looking, slightly plump grey-haired man with a salt-and-pepper beard. He looked positively saintly in his flowing black cassock, which was definitely in better shape than the one worn by Douglas who lived under the Bridge.

“Brother Samuel kinda looks like an older, fatter Charlton Heston in ‘The Ten Commandments’,” he chuckled as he moved the glass slowly over the photos, tensing for a stern rebuke. Instead he heard his partner chuckle.

“Really? I think he looks more like Peter Ustinov.” They both laughed. 

Steve could feel his partner’s eyes boring into the top of his head and he knew he was expected to find something. He didn’t want to disappoint, and he could feel his heart start to pound. Then it dawned on him; if Mike was making him use a magnifying glass on photos of people that were easy to see with the naked eye, then it had to be something small and easily overlooked. 

He had gotten halfway through the photos when he suddenly froze and looked up; Mike was staring at him with a soft smile. He picked up a photo in the middle of the collage and held it up. It was a longshot of three of the granny-dressed, bonneted women walking side by side down the sidewalk towards the photographer. Several yards behind them two more similarly-dressed women were walking, but they were further from the camera and their faces were smaller and slightly blurred.

“Margaret Tolliver?” Steve asked quietly, pointing at the woman in the back on the right.

Mike’s smile got a little wider. “It sure looks like her to me,” he said softly, nodding as he picked up the L.A. mugshot and dropped it on the desk facing his partner.

“So she’s alive?”

“It sure looks like that, doesn’t it?”

Steve looked back down at the photo, frowning. “So, what? Her… partner, boyfriend, whatever you want to call him, is killed… and she becomes one of Brother Samuel’s acolytes?”

“That’s the word I’ve been looking for,” Mike snapped, pointing at the younger man and nodding enthusiastically. “Acolytes. It’s better than flock, that’s for sure.”

Steve chuckled. “Glad I could be of help.” He held the photo up a little higher. “Good catch, Lieutenant.”

Mike smiled and sat back. “Thank you.” He pointed at the photo. “I spotted that just after she dropped them off last night and it was all I could do not to call you. If I do say so myself, I displayed incredible self-control last night.” He grinned with amused self-satisfaction and the younger man chuckled.

“Well, I glad that you did. It was a… a wonderful night.”

“That’s all? Just ‘wonderful’?”

Steve smiled smugly. “That’s all you’re going to get from me. A man has to have a few secrets.” In an attempt to change the subject, he gestured at the photos. “So, what do you want to do now?”

His attention re-directed, Mike bobbed his eyebrows and wobbled his head. “Well, I’ve been thinking about that too. Until we hear from R&I about our Mr. Martin Cargill, our options our limited. But now that we… think we’ve discovered Margaret Tolliver,” he nodded towards the photo on the desk, “I’d like to take her mugshot to the bus station and see if any of the staff there remembers her, as much of a longshot as that is. I mean, if she just passed through after getting off the bus with Drabinsky, chances are nobody’s going to remember that… unless, of course, she was nude while she did it,” he finished with a chuckle, raising his eyebrows with a goofy shrug.

Steve stared at him in disbelief then started to laugh. “Yeah, I think somebody would remember that, yeah…” He shook his head in amusement as he leaned over the desk. “We should be so lucky.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice, wouldn’t it…?” Mike frowned again. “And I’ve been wondering… is she there with Brother Samuel because she wants to be, that maybe he or one of his … acolytes,” he smiled at the younger man, “found her living on the streets after Drabinsky disappeared and took her in? Or is she there because she was threatened by them to join them and now she feels she can’t leave?”

Steve, who had been listening carefully, added, “Or she’s been brainwashed…?”

Mike’s frown deepened and he cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve read a lot of accounts of the Manson family the past couple of years, and one of the things that stood out for me was how much the young woman that committed the murders, whether actually doing the killing or acted as look-outs and such, they had all been considered ‘normal girls’ by people who knew them growing up. Hell, one of them even considered becoming a nun. Another sang in a church choir.” He shrugged, shaking his head.

“What are you driving at?”

Steve ran his right hand over his face. “I’m not sure,” he chuckled mirthlessly, “just that people who met these girls after their arrest said that they exhibited all the signs of brainwashing… totally subservient to someone who they really believed had their best interests at heart, which he really didn’t, of course.”

The older man thought for a long second, his brow deeply furrowed. “You’re not suggesting Brother Samuel has gone down the same path as Charles Manson, are you?”

“Dear god no,” Steve assured quickly, “not at all, but… if this does turns out be Margaret Tolliver,” he gestured towards the photo, “then it begs the question, did what happen to Drabrinsky happen while she was with him? And, if so, why didn’t she go to the police? Why did she end up in this… bogus holy man’s congregation?”

“Ah-ah, we don’t know he’s bogus, do we?” Mike interjected quickly, gesturing at his partner with his right forefinger. “We can’t jump to that conclusion, now can we?”

“True, but do you know what religion he’s affiliated with?” Steve shot back with a smile.

The older man chuckled. “Well, the cassock definitely looks Catholic but who knows…”

“And good luck trying to find out… I bet no church’d admit it anyway.”

Mike was nodding slowly, his gaze unfocused. He blinked quickly and nodded once, meeting the green eyes staring at him across the desk. “Why don’t you have a quick talk with Lenny, see what he thinks about this… theory of yours.”

“You think there could be something there?”

Mike snorted dryly. “Why not? Makes as much sense as anything else, maybe even more…” He frowned. “And I don’t think brainwashing has an age limit, if you know what I mean.”

The younger man nodded, looking down, then he raised his head and frowned. “We have Tolliver’s prints in the L.A. file, right?” he asked rhetorically. “What do you think the odds are we can get her fingerprints somewhere,” he pointed at the photo, “and make sure it’s really her?”

“I’ve been thinking about that too, but how? Have somebody trailing around after them hoping she handles something in a store, or leaves a coffee cup or a soda can lying around?” Mike shook his head. “I don’t like those odds.”

“Yeah, you’re right. And we can’t just knock on their door and asked for them,” Steve sighed, sitting back. “Any ideas?”

Mike pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not a one. Not at the moment anyway.”

“Well, let’s give it some thought. Maybe one of us’ll have a brainstorm.” Steve started to get up slowly. “I’ll go see when Lenny has a moment.” He turned back at the door. “What are you going to do?”

“Me? I’m going to the library,” the older man chuckled as he started to gather up the photos.

“The library? What for?”

“Well, we’ve having trouble getting any information on our Brother Samuel, aren’t we? And who knows what R&I will be able to tell us about Martin Cargill. And I’ve been thinking, if Brother Samuel has been around for at least a couple of years, chances are somebody’s written something about him… and if not in The Chronicle or The Examiner, maybe one of the fringe papers.”

Steve nodded his approval. “Yikes, ah, that could take awhile…” he chuckled.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got all day, and a library card,” Mike laughed.


	49. Chapter 49

The door the Homicide office opened and an obviously weary Mike Stone trudged through the anteroom and started to make his way across the bullpen towards his office. His hat sat precariously atop his head, his tie was loose and collar button undone. He was rubbing his right hand over his eyes and trying to suppress a yawn.

His sleeves rolled up and his own tie undone, Steve looked up from pecking away at the typewriter beside his desk and chuckled almost evilly. 

Seeming not to take no notice, Mike went directly to his office, not even bothering to take off his hat or jacket before dropping heavily into the chair, slumping. Still chuckling, Steve pulled the form out of the typewriter, dropped it on the desk and glanced at his watch as he stood and sauntered to the office door, folding his arms as he leaned against the frame. “Have you been at the library this entire time?”

His head back against the chair and his eyes closed, Mike nodded slowly. “Every long microfiche minute…”

Steve laughed, pushing away from the frame and stepping to the guest chair. He sat, patting his tie down as he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Why didn’t you just go home? It’s almost six.”

He opened one eye. “I wanted to see if anything new came in. Besides, this was on the way.”

“Did you find anything?”

Very slowly, Mike leaned forward, reaching into his right jacket pocket for his notebook. He tossed it on the desk and flipped it open. “You know,” he said lightly, “a lot of those fringe papers that used to be in boxes on street corners have gone the way of the dodo bird in the last couple a years.” He looked up and raised his eyebrows. “I bet you didn’t know that, but I do…” he intoned with mock solemnity and the younger man chuckled. “And now I understand why as well.”

Continuing to laugh, Steve grinned. “I wouldn’t know about that, I just have time to read Rolling Stone now.”

Mike’s eyes snapped to him and the older man started to chuckle. “So, there was nothing about Brother Samuel in either the Chronicle or the Examiner - and for the life of me I don’t know why they’ve missed him all these years…. But two of the fringe papers had articles on him. Short ones, but still…” He shrugged, looking through his notes. “The Organ,” he looked up and raised his eyebrows, “which was a weekly that had a fairly substantial readership in The Castro, surprise surprise, and was exactly what you’d think it would be about - had an article about Brother Samuel and his… congregation helping distribute food to the needy in The Castro back in ’71. And the other article was in the Haight Asbury Free Press, about how Brother Samuel and his ‘church’ were collecting used clothing and food to help the people who were homeless after that big fire on Pierce last year.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Really biting stuff here,” he growled sarcastically, running his right hand over his tired eyes again. “So after going half-blind from squinting at that monitor all day, all I found out was that Brother Samuel seems to be a socially conscious nice guy.” He stared at Steve blankly and shook his head slightly. “That’s not what I was hoping for…”

“So I’m assuming neither article said anything about what his real name is either, right?”

“Right…” Mike chuckled. “Is there such a thing as a ‘square zero’? ’Cause that’s where we’ve gone back to, I’m afraid…”

The younger man snorted as he sat forward. “Well, for what it’s worth, R&I came up with a file on Martin Cargill for us.”

Mike perked up, smiling as he sat forward slightly. “And?”

“And Martin Cargill is not Brother Samuel, unless he got a lot shorter, heavier and younger over the years. And it seems Martin Cargill owns six houses throughout the city. He’s works in finance over on Montgomery and, from what I gather from the file, he buys houses and then rents them out. I guess it’s his retirement plan.”

“So the Steiner house is a rental?” Mike mused to himself. “That makes sense. I was wondering why it didn’t look like a church, so if Brother Samuel is just renting it, he’s probably not allowed to… alter it.”“Yes, that sounds about right. But, it also means that Cargill more than likely knows Brother Samuel, maybe not well but knows him… and what his real name is Want to go talk to him?”

“I sure do,” Mike nodded then deflated slightly. “But not today, okay?”

“Ah, no,” Steve agreed with a laugh. “It’s too late anyway. And I would like you to be awake when we do…”

“Ha ha.” Mike sighed tiredly then quickly raised his eyebrows. “Oh, ah, did you get a chance to talk to Lenny?”

“I did. And he thinks my theory has merit. And,” he emphasized the word, “he thinks that women who might have just seen their… boyfriend or companion or whatever we want to call them, killed before their eyes, would be really susceptible to a form of ‘brainwashing’ that would make them like supplicants. Not necessarily the Manson kind, willing to go out and kill to please their ‘master’, but maybe the kind that’s too afraid to leave or to speak out against the ‘master’ no matter what.”

Mike’s focus had drifted down to the top of the desk as he listened. When Steve finished, he grunted softly. “Hmmm. What does that do to my man-and-woman theory?”

Steve raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “Well, maybe not all the women are… supplicants. Maybe one or two of them are accomplices.”

The older man shrugged. “Yeah…” he sighed. “Okay… well, let’s hope that whoever is doing this doesn’t strike again before we can figure out what the hell is going on.”

“Yeah…” Steve echoed, the same melancholy suddenly washing over him as well. He brightened. “Hey, ah, why don’t I drive you home, we both get a good night’s sleep, I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning and we go pay Mr. Cargill a visit. Maybe he can help.”

Mike snorted dryly. “Your lips to God’s ears…”

# # # # #

The financial services firm of Delahunt & Toussaint was on the second floor of a medium-sized, ultra-modern red-brick building on Montgomery near Pacific. And senior partner Martin Cargill was more than a little surprised to have two SFPD detectives knocking on his office door shortly at 9 a.m.

Mike had deliberately omitted the word ‘Homicide’ in his introductions, having learned long ago that mentioning that one word, when interviewing third parties, more often than not sent imaginations racing towards wild conclusions and, ultimately, coloured their responses. So, with Martin Cargill, he mentioned something vaguely about fraud and mismanagement of charitable funds. Both detectives relaxed when Cargill seemed to buy it without a second thought, which actually gave them brief pause.

“So, of course, we only know him as Brother Samuel and we’ve had a hard time, well, an impossible time,” Mike chuckled genially, “trying to find his real name. Then Steve here,” he smiled proudly at his partner; the younger man bowed his head in feigned embarrassment, “suggested we do a deed search on the house, and lo and behold, we found out you actually own the house on Steiner that Brother Samuel uses for his temple.”

Smiling warily, his grey eyes snapping back and forth between the men in his leather guest chairs, Cargill nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Steiner house is one of six I own throughout The City.” His grin got a little wider. “Good financial planning, for retirement,” he chuckled. “Investment property might be something you should look into, Lieutenant.”

Mike snorted amiably. “I’ve got a daughter in an out-of-state university.”

Cargill grimaced. “Ah, I see… enough said.” He laughed. “Ah, so from what I gather, you’re just here today to find out Brother Samuel’s real name, is that what I’m understanding?” His eyes wandered to Steve.

“That’s it,” the inspector confirmed.

“Well, that’s not a problem.” Cargill swivelled in his chair and leaned towards the large mahogany credenza against the wall behind the large, and very impressive, wooden desk. The long drawer contained what looked like hundreds of files but he pulled the one he needed quickly. He looked up with a quick smile. “Just want to make sure I get it right,” he said as he opened the file and thumbed through the papers. “Yeah, here it is.” He glanced up, noticing Steve already had his notebook open on the desk and his pen ready. “Benjamin Arthur Sykes.”

Mike watched while his partner wrote it down.

“S-Y-K-E-S?” the younger man asked and Cargill nodded.

Mike nodded towards the file. “Anything else in there that could help us, like his wife’s name, any references…?”

Cargill’s eyes studied the form. “He’ not married, I remember that,” he answered quickly then looked up with a wry smile, “at least that’s what he told me, and as for references,” he looked back down, there’s one… in Sante Fe….” He voice trailed off and he frowned slightly. “Ah, yes, I remember that. I called him. He gave a glowing reference.”“You only used the one?” Steve asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

Cargill smiled. “I’ve always considered myself a pretty good judge of character, Inspector Keller. I got a good… what do the kid’s call it? A good vibe from Brother Samuel when I met him.”

“You mean he was already calling himself Brother Samuel when you rented the house to him?” Mike jumped in.

Cargill’s attention shifted. “Yes, of course. That’s how he presented himself to me.”

“And you had no problem with that, with the name on the rental agreement being different from the one he was using?”

“Not at all. I met him two or three times before I rented the house to him, and every time he came across as very honest and forthcoming. He had no qualms.”

“And everything’s been fine since?” Steve asked.

“There hasn’t been one complaint, or one problem.” Cargill shrugged.

Mike cocked his head. “Did he ever tell you why he calls himself Brother Samuel instead of Brother Benjamin?”

The money man laughed. “As a matter of fact, I did. He said he thought Brother Benjamin sounded like a cartoon character. Samuel was his grandfather’s name, I think he said.”

After a slight pause, Mike glanced quickly at his partner and shrugged. “Well, I guess we’ve got all we need. If you can just give Steve the name and number of that reference in Santa Fe, we’ll get out of your hair.”

# # # # #

“So what do you think?” Steve asked as they stepped out into the bright morning sunshine and headed back to their car.

“Well, I think everything Mr. Cargill told us is the truth, as he knows it. But, for me, it’s opened up more questions.” He tossed a glance at the young man beside him. “We have a lot more digging to do now, don’t we?”

Steve chuckled. “Yes, we do.”

“So when we get back, why don’t you get ahold of R&I and get them started on finding out everything they can pull together on our… Benjamin Sykes, and I’ll call that Santa Fe reference. How does that sound?”

“Works for me.”

“And, just to show you what a great boss I can be sometimes, seeing as it’s Friday, both you and I are going to take the weekend off.” Steve almost slid to a stop. Mike took a couple more steps before he paused and half-turned. “What?” he chuckled.

“You’re giving me the weekend off?”

Mike nodded once, raising his eyebrows with a closed-mouth smile. “Yes, I am. We’re only gonna have a few more good weekends before the rain and the fog, and we’re both still not a hundred percent yet, so take that girl of yours and get outa town for the weekend.”

“Oh, I will,” Steve chuckled, falling into step beside his partner again, a sudden spring in his step. “And what are you gonna do?”

“Me? The Astros are in town. I’m gonna spend some time at the ‘Stick.”


	50. Chapter 50

Steve hung up the receiver, getting up slowly and heading towards the inner office. He rolled his shoulders, stretching the muscles in his back, glancing towards the glass walls; Mike was on the phone, his head down. He was getting a bit sore, but he didn’t want his partner to notice. A weekend off would go a long way in helping his continuing recovery, he knew, and he was grateful for the opportunity.

“Yes, thank you… Yes, I’d appreciate that very much….“ Mike looked, raising his eyebrows with the look that Steve knew meant, ‘I’ll be with you in a second.’ “Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you very much. Goodbye.” He hung up then stared at the notepad on the desk in front of him, his lips pursed.

Steve moved deeper into the room. “Was that the Santa Fe reference?”

Mike looked up almost distractedly. “Ah, Santa Fe? Yeah. Reference? No. That was the SFPD.” He smirked suddenly with a soft chuckle.

Frowning with a confused smile, Steve sank into the guest chair. “The what?”

“The SFPD - the Santa Fe Police Department.,” the older man almost chortled then reached out and straightened the pad on the desk. “The, ah, the reference - that Mr. Berger - well, it seems the number was disconnected, which is totally plausible, of course. Cargill called him over five years ago. So I decided to give the police department a call, see if they could help out. They’re going to do a more thorough background search for us but I had them go through a couple of old phone books they had lying around and there’s no listing for a Charles Berger. I even had them check the alternative spelling - B-U instead of B-E, but nothing…. They’re going to do a… more professional search and get back to me.”

Steve frowned. “So… what? You think there really was no Mr. Berger? Cargill was lying?”

“No no no,” Mike said quickly. “I believe Cargill. But I’m beginning to think maybe a Mr. Berger never existed at all, except to accept that one phone call.”

“Okay…” Steve said slowly, “but why?”

Mike shrugged, making a face. “Like I’ve said before, if I knew that, I’d know everything.” He tapped the desk with his right hand. “Anyway, I’m having the SFPD,” he chuckled again, “do a background check on our Mr. Sykes, in case he has a record down there. Who knows, right?”

“Right?”

“So, ah, so you got the wheels rolling down in R&I?”

“Yeah. Ah, they’re busy though, I was told, so don’t expect anything, even prelim they said, before Monday morning, or more than likely Monday afternoon. Budget cuts have hit them hard and there’s only one person in on the weekends now and they get swamped. Basically, they’re only there to answer the phone on the weekends…”

“Right…”. Mike sighed, his unfocused gaze drifting down to the desk. Suddenly his head came up. “Then let’s get an early start on the weekend, shall we? We’ve put in enough overtime over the years that we can slip out early…”

Steve grinned, nodding, as he climbed to his feet. 

“Besides,” Mike continued, “I’m the boss. That’s gotta mean something once in awhile.”

# # # # #

Steve was whistling when he walked into the bullpen first thing Monday morning, not at all surprised to see the inner office door closed and, through the glass wall, his shirtsleeved partner bent over his desk, reading glasses on and phone pressed to his ear. Chuckling, he stopped at his desk, took off his jacket and dropped it over the back of the chair, then crossed to the inner office door, knocking softly before opening it without waiting for an invite. He closed it quietly and sank soundlessly into the guest chair with a knowing smile.

Mike finished the conversation and hung up, making notes, not even acknowledging the young man sitting on the other side of the desk, though he was obviously aware of the presence. Without looking up, he asked, “So I’m assuming, from the Cheshire Cat grin and the whistling, that you had a very… enjoyable weekend?” he asked quietly, then looked up with a soft smile.

Steve snorted and grinned. “Ah, yeah, I guess, ah… I guess enjoyable would be a good word, yeah…” He chuckled.

“All rested up?”

“All rested up, yeah.”“Good, ‘cause we’ve got work to do, buddy boy. A lot of work.” He leaned back and took his glasses off, tossing them on the desk. Automatically, like he always did when he was trying to marshal his thoughts, he reached out and straightened the notepad on the desk. “That was the SFPD,” he said with no trace of mirth this time, nodding at the phone. “They did a little digging for us over the weekend. And they turned up something very interesting. A couple of things actually.” 

Steve could tell that his partner was now completely in detective mode and suddenly the warm, relaxed feeling that he had managed to absorb during the unexpected weekend off completely disappeared. He sat up a little straighter.

Sensing the change of demeanour in his young partner, Mike smiled slightly, nodding towards the door. “Look, ah, before I tell you, why don’t you get yourself a coffee.” He picked up his own empty mug and set it down on the corner of the desk. “And get me one too, will ya?” He looked back at the notepad.

With a curious and concerned frown, Steve picked up the empty mug and left the office. Keeping an eye on his partner, who continued to stare, expressionless, at the notepad on the desk, he poured the two cups of coffee and returned to the office, closing the door behind himself again. “What’s going on?” he asked as he sat.

Mike looked at him and smiled grimly. “Well, they did a little more digging on the elusive Mr. Berger and there is no indication, nothing they can find right now anyway, that tells them he ever existed. They traced the phone number and it was a legitimate number several years ago, for about a month, but it wasn’t issued to a Mr. Andrew Berger, it was issued to a Mr. Charles Meadows for an apartment that is now occupied, and has been for four years, by someone else, who has an entirely different number and says they never heard of an Andrew Berger.”

Steve’s frown got a little deeper. “That doesn’t sound suspicious at all, does it?” he muttered facetiously, his eyes sparkling.

Mike chuckled dryly, flashing a slight smile. “Yeah, but that’s not all.”

“There’s more?”

Mike nodded once, deeply, and the smile disappeared. “They got some preliminary information on Mr. Benjamin Sykes for us as well. And it seems that six years ago, just outside Santa Fe, Mr. Sykes was the head of a small religious group that had a… a ‘compound’. He went by the name of Brother Benjamin.” Mike looked up from his notes and met the younger man’s stare for a long second before his eyes slid slowly back to the yellow legal length pad. “He had a small group of ‘followers’, the SFPD called them, all older women.” He glanced up again. 

“They kept to themselves, didn’t break any laws and co-existed peacefully with their neighbors. Until ’65, it seems. In ’65, the SFPD were called out to the compound when they got a call about a death. They found the body of middle-aged man on the compound, and they were told that he had shown up unannounced and attacked one of the women and that woman, and Brother Benjamin, had fought back and defended themselves and in the process the intruder was killed.”

Rapt, Steve leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, not taking his eyes from his partner’s face.

“They interviewed Benjamin and all the women and they all told the same story, but the D.A. was wasn’t convinced; seems there had been another suspicious death at the compound two years earlier. For a similar reason - an intruder had infiltrated the compound and tried to rape one of the women and they had to fight him off. No one was charged in that one, it was deemed self-defence… justifiable homicide. But the D.A. didn’t trust ‘Brother Benjamin’ and he went after him the second time. The D.A. felt that the intruder could’ve been subdued and not killed, so Brother Benjamin was charged with involuntary manslaughter and he was convicted. He went to jail for fourteen months. It was supposed to be eighteen but he got out early for ‘good behavior’.” Mike sat back and stared at his partner. “And when he got out, he disappeared.”

“And he came here…” Steve whispered.

The older man tilted his head. “Looks like it.”

A silence filled the room as they both digested this startling new information. Eventually Steve asked, “Did they tell you how the guy in Santa Fe was killed, the one he went to jail for?”

Mike nodded slowly. “He was beaten and stabbed.”

“Son-of-a-bitch,” Steve breathed. “Did, ah, did the women come with him?”

His partner shrugged. “Nobody knows.” He paused briefly. “They, ah, the cops down there are going to get back to me when they get more, but they thought I’d want to know this right away.”

“So, ah, so how do you want to handle this now?”

Mike sat back and snorted, shaking his head ruefully. “Right this minute, I have no idea. I’m gonna have to give it some thought, obviously… but at least now we know we’re on the right track.”

“Yeah.” Steve stared at him and smiled. “Your gut is batting a thousand percent on this one.” 

The older man raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “Yeah… sometimes I wish it was wrong, but maybe, just maybe, we can save some lives with this one.” He sighed heavily. “Well, before I decide what our next move is,” he gestured between them with his right fingers, “I know what I want to start doing. I want to get a pair of eyes on that ‘temple’. I want to know what Brother Samuel is doing every hour of every day.” He rubbed his right hand over his face in frustration. “Look, ah, I’ve gotta go talk to Rudy and John about all this. If it’s going to be a major surveillance operation, I’ve gotta run it by them first so let’s get that out of the way.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get ahold of Pete down in Gangs and Gary in Narcotics and let them know we’re gonna need a few of their undercover people to do double duty for us. When I get the go-ahead, we’ll set up a meeting as soon as possible.”

“Got it,” Steve nodded as he started to get to his feet, taking his cup of rapidly cooling coffee with him.

“Hey,” Mike said sharply and the younger man froze. Mike smiled. “I’m glad you got to enjoy your weekend. It might be the last one for awhile.”

# # # # #

Chief of Detectives John Conden looked at the captain and raised his eyebrows before turning his full attention back to the Homicide lieutenant. “Well, I hope you’re right about this one, Mike, I really do. But you know as well as I do that we’re strapped for cash. That budget cut has really hit us hard.”Mike was nodding, trying to keep a calm exterior, hoping his plea for extra men to conduct a 24-hour surveillance on Brother Samuel and his temple wouldn’t be turned down. He could feel Olsen’s eyes burning a hole in the side of his head, willing him to keep his temper if his entreaty fell on deaf ears.

“And, to be honest, and don’t get me wrong here because I think every murder should be investigated with the complete commitment of the department, but we’re not talking about Sea Cliff housewives or Montgomery Street lawyers here. All the victims so far have been homeless men, right, men who don’t even seem to be from San Francisco in the first place… am I right?”

Mike gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir, but -“

Conden raised both hands. “I know what you’re going to say, Mike, and I agree with you, but I have… higher powers I have to answer to.” The big man took a long pause. “Look, how about I give you three teams, for two weeks, with overtime. And if you get nothing in those two weeks, then I’ll have to pull the plug.” He looked from Mike to Olsen and back again. “How does that sound?”

Mike could feel the blood pounding in his ears, but he managed to keep his expression unreadable. He nodded once, sharply. “We can work with that,” he said flatly.


	51. Chapter 51

Olsen shut the thick wooden door with the brass nameplate and turned to the lieutenant, shaking his head and exhaling loudly in relief. “Thank you for keeping your temper in there.”

Mike’s eyes were flaring. He pointed at the door angrily. “Rudy, it’s bad enough to have to take crap like that from the jugheads on the street, but to hear it from the top brass…” He released a loud breath through his clenched teeth.

“I know, I know,” the captain said soothingly, putting his hand on his friend’s back and pushing him lightly down the corridor, hoping to put some distance between his obviously upset colleague and the door. When they got a few steps away, he asked calmly, “So are you really satisfied with three teams for two weeks?”

Mike exhaled loudly again, his jaw still clenched. “Yeah. It’s not what I want, but if it’s all I can get, I’ll take it.” He felt Olsen’s soft pat on his back, realizing the captain was relieved that he was calming down.

“Good. Okay, then, I’ll give Gary and Pete a call and see if they can -“

“Steve’s already on it,” Mike interrupted smoothly, staring straight ahead as they approached the bank of elevators, trying not to smile. He sensed more than saw the hitch in Olsen’s stride. He could feel the older man’s eyes on him as he punched the Up button.

“Pretty confident that you were going to get Conden to agree to your request, were you?” He asked with a sardonic chuckle.

Mike turned his head, letting his smile widen a little. “Well, he did, didn’t he?”

# # # # #

Mike was still in a foul mood when he strode into the bullpen, jerking to a stop in front of his partner’s desk as if it was an afterthought. “Did you talk to Peter and Gary?” he snapped, and Steve ducked slightly at the unexpected tone.

Realizing now was not the time for a frivolous comeback, he nodded sharply. “Yeah, they’re both good with it. I just need to let them know how many we need and they can have the teams ready first thing tomorrow morning.”

Mike was nodding throughout, seeming to calm down slightly as he listened. “Okay, thanks…” he mumbled before heading towards his office, leaving his jacket on as he circled the desk and sat.

Frowning, Steve got up slowly and trailed his partner into the small room. He quietly closed the door then, foregoing the guest chair, moved deeper into the room and sat on the corner of the desk near the older man, staring at the downturned head. “What happened?”

Continuing to look down, Mike took a couple of deep breaths, trying to get his emotions under control. “Do you remember when we arrived in that alley off Eddy, what Sergeant Devereaux said about the victim?” 

The question was half rhetorical and Steve knew it, but he nodded anyway with a soft, “Umh-humh…”

Mike exhaled loudly. “You can expect that attitude from some people, I guess, some ignorant people with no… compassion, who can’t put themselves in other peoples shoes. And you can call ‘em on it but you know it’s not going to do any good, that it won’t change them… they’ve made up their minds…” He sighed and it sounded disappointed. “Maybe… maybe you can expect that from some people, I guess… but from others…?” He dropped his head even further and shook it. “I don’t know about you but when I close my eyes I go right back there, to the warehouse… and all is can hear is Bobby’s voice, feel the squeeze of his hand…. He may have been homeless, he may have been living on the streets, but his life wasn’t worth less than yours… or mine… or anybody else’s…” His voice had started to crack and he stopped talking; almost immediately he could feel his partner’s hand on his shoulder.

They sat quietly for several very long seconds before Mike raised his right hand and covered his eyes, massaging his temples. Eventually he lifted his head slightly, continuing to stare unseeing at the desktop. “We need three two-man teams, eight hour shifts for two weeks. I want to meet with them all at 7 tomorrow morning.” He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten then disappear.

“I’ll handle it,” Steve said quietly, rising from the desk. He closed the door behind him when he left the office.

# # # # #

“Okay, fellas, you know what we want. Like I said, Steve and I’ll leave it up to you to decide who does what when, just make sure that that… temple gets covered all day, every day. And remember,” Mike smiled as he raised his right forefinger, “Brother Samuel is our primary target but if any of the… the women go out without him, then you split up. I want an eye on them as well.”

The six undercover officers, none of whom looked even remotely like a cop, nodded in unison.

Steve stepped forward with a small stack of colour prints in his hands. “These are the photos we want you to keep with you at all times. Like I said, we’re pretty sure this woman,” he held up the mugshot of Margaret Jane Tolliver, “is already a ewe in his ‘flock’,” there were soft chuckles all around, and Mike shot his partner an approving, and amused, smile.

They had decided to adhere to a light and relaxed mood for the meeting, knowing that by keeping things loose and genial, the six undercover operatives would be even more amenable to making sure their temporary reassignment was a successful one. They had all heard of, or met, or even briefly worked with, the storied lieutenant at one point in their careers, and knew they didn’t want to disappoint.

Steve held the mugshot up a little higher. “We’d just like confirmation, if you can get it for us, that it is her.” He put the photo back on the stack. “We also think that one of the women may be a redhead.” He held up his right hand as if to stave off the questions he knew would be coming. “Bear with me here on why we think this matters,” he chuckled, and received the amused reaction he was anticipating. “One of our victims was known to accompany a middle-aged red-headed woman who we’ve been unable to locate. There is a possibility that she is also a member of the flock. Now I know it’s hard to tell hair colour under those bonnets the women wear, but all of you know the other possible physical signs of a true redhead - the pale skin, blue eyes, freckles. If you get close enough to see if one of the women has those features, just let us know. I could be a big help.”

Nodding at the assembled group, Steve took a step back, glancing at his partner. Mike, who had been leaning against the wall near the door of the crowded interrogation room, pushed himself up.

“Okay, fellas, you have your marching orders. Remember, Steve and I will be here to receive phone calls almost every day but if we aren’t, we’ll make sure someone from Homicide will take your calls. Thanks a lot, fellas, and good luck.” He took a step aside and opened the door. 

The six officers got to their feet and shuffled from the room, exchanging brief comments with the Homicide detectives, taking the photos as they passed, crossing the bullpen on their way out of the office. Steve followed his partner back to the inner office, both of them dropping heavily into their respective chairs. “Well, at least we’ve got eyes and ears on the streets now,” Steve chuckled as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

Mike leaned back in the swivel chair, arching his back as he stretched. “Yeah… let’s just hope it pays off, even if that only means it stops someone else from getting murdered…” He ran both hands over his face, complete with his almost patented frustrated glare at the cast still on his left forearm, and chuckled dryly. “It’s the waiting that’s gonna kill me, I’m sure of it…”

Steve laughed and sat back, unconsciously patting his tie down. “I know you want to get out there yourself but we can’t be seen in that neighborhood… too many eyes.”

“I know,” the older man almost whined.

“Besides, we still have a lot to do here. I’m still waiting on the report from R&I on Sykes, and you’re expecting at least one more call from Santa Fe, right?”

Mike stared at him expressionlessly, knowing what the younger man was trying to do. Suddenly his eyebrows shot up and he slapped the desk with his right hand. “You’re right. All right, let’s get back to work.”

With a warm chuckle, Steve got up and headed back to his desk.

# # # # #

It was an unusually quiet day in Homicide. There had been a spate of murders and suicides, none of them complicated but all of them needing the attention of the detectives before the ‘books’ could be closed. There was only one team and a smattering of auxiliary personnel in the office besides Mike and Steve, and the volume level was uncharacteristically subdued.

When Steve’s phone rang, it was almost startling. He picked it up on the first ring. It was a short call and he hung up quickly, getting up and crossing to the door of the inner office. “That was R&I. They’re sending up the file right now.”

Mike looked at him over the top of his glasses. “Good. Bring it in when you’ve got it.”

“Will do.” Steve pointed at the desk. “What are you working on?”

“I’m trying to put together a case to take to Gerry in the hopes we can get a search warrant for the Steiner house.”

“We haven’t got enough yet, you know that.”

Mike tilted his head with a peeved frown. “Yes, I know that,” he almost whined in self-defence. “I’m just… getting my ducks in a row…. And I’m leaving spaces so I can add some more ducks when we get them.” He smiled whimsically.

Steve stared at him for long silent second then shook his head, turning away without a word and heading back to his desk. He knew it was going to be a long two weeks if the undercover teams didn’t find anything.

# # # # #

Steve took the thin file from the young woman who delivered it, opening it as he strolled back towards his partner’s office. He paused in the doorway, waiting for Mike to look up. He held the folder open so Mike could see the one sheet of paper impaled on the brass brad. Even from the desk it was obvious there was very little information on the page.

Mike frowned. “That’s it?”

Steve nodded once. “That’s it. They got bupkis.”

“Nothing?”

“Not a thing. According to R&I, Benjamin Sykes, who lives on Steiner, doesn’t exist.’

Mike took his glasses off and tossed them on the desk. “So… what? He’s going by another name here in The City?”

Steve shrugged. “Must be…”

“Well, isn’t that interesting.” The older man thought for a minute. “Okay, let’s try this. Cargill said he pays the rent in cash. And they’re obviously buying things like, you know, groceries and stuff. Is it all cash, or does he use a credit card, do you think? Get in touch with the credit card companies and see if they’ve issued a card for a Benjamin Sykes. Then, if they haven’t, I want someone to canvas the stores around the Steiner house and find out how he does pay his bills. Maybe he pays by cheque and has a bank account somewhere.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Steve said with a nod and disappeared back to his desk.

Mike had just picked his glasses back up when his phone rang. Scowling, he grabbed the black receiver. “Homicide, Stone.”

“Hey, Mike, it’s Neil.”

“Neil! How’s it going?”

There was a deep laugh on the other end of the line. “Incredibly well, Mike, incredibly well. And, ah, well, that’s the reason I’m calling. I, ah, I need a big favor.”

“Go ahead. Shoot.”


	52. Chapter 52

Steve was on the phone when Mike hung up, a smile on his face as he almost charged from the office, cooling his jets by sitting on the corner of his partner’s desk and crossing his arms, staring at the younger man in what was obviously a futile attempt to disguise his excitement.

Pretending not to notice, Steve continued with his call, making notes as he asked questions, then very deliberately setting the receiver on the cradle and taking the time to make one more notation before languidly looking up at the almost vibrating older man. “Yes?” he asked slowly, trying not to smile.

Grinning, Mike pointed back over his shoulder. “That was Neil. Ah, he’s, well, he has news, good news.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded slowly, having a hard time keeping a straight face. The change in his partner’s mood was startling, and welcome. He raised his eyebrows. “So what’s the news?”

“Well, ah, the donations are starting to roll in and, ah, he’s getting that van in a couple of days, and a stationary company is donating school supplies… and I’m gonna help him get the supplies to the school tomorrow. Oh, ah, and I volunteered you and me to give him a hand next week when they’re getting a shipment of desks and chairs…” His expression had turned to cautious pleading.

“You volunteered… us?”

“Yeah…”

“To do the heavy lifting?”

Mike cleared his throat. “Well, ah, that’ll be more something you and Neil can do,” he explained slowly, holding up the cast, “but I’ll do what I can,” he finished quickly with a lame smile.

“I see.” Steve nodded slowly. “And what day is this supposed to happen?”

“Well, we don’t know yet… but probably early next week sometime…”

The younger man nodded, pretending to give the entreaty the serious consideration it deserved. “Not until next week?”

“Well, ah, he’s not going to get the van for a couple of days, like I said, and we have to get in insured and all that, but I’m gonna take a couple of hours tomorrow morning and give him and the supplies he’s got now a lift to the school, and then we’ll figure out the rest later.”

“We will, hunh?” There was a surprising lack of enthusiasm in the younger man’s voice and Mike frowned. Steve cleared his throat self-consciously, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly.

Catching on that his leg was being pulled, Mike leaned forward and playfully swatted his partner as Steve tried to twist out of the way, starting to laugh. “You…” he growled with a chuckle then sat back, grinning. “It’s good news, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Steve nodded. “Yeah, it really is. It’s great news. Neil seems to be really putting it all together, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Talk about a lot of things coming together, right? The right man in the right place at the right time…”

“It’s called karma, Mike,” Steve offered with mock solemnity.

“Oh yeah? That’s karma?” the older man returned with the same mocking lilt. They both laughed. “I can hardly wait to call Jeannie tonight and let her know how it’s all going.”

“Well, she deserves the credit for getting all this started, doesn’t she?”

“She sure does.” He looked down, his eyes brightening. “I couldn’t be more proud of her.”

Smiling warmly, Steve reached out and laid a hand on his partner’s knee, squeezing gently. “So, ah, so you’re gonna give him a hand tomorrow morning?”

Mike’s head came up and he smiled. “Ah, yeah, just to deliver some stuff to the school ‘cause he doesn’t have the van yet. It won’t take too long.” He nodded at the notepad on the desk. “You get anything?”

Steve sat up straighter, taking his hand off his partner’s knee and looking at the notes he had made. “Ah, yeah. That was R&I. I’d asked them to do a search on Andrew Berger, both spellings, and they said they had five men of the right age with that name and they are going to send the files up. And, I was just about to head out and do a little R&I on my own with those local businesses, see if I can find out how Brother Samuel pays for everything.”

Mike was frowning. “Good thinking about Berger. And, yeah, I’d really like to know where he gets his money from too. I mean, how does he pay his rent and all that other stuff? If his women are all formerly homeless, then we’re not talking about living off other people’s money now, are we?”

Steve was nodding slowly. “Yeah, it’s a head-scratcher all right.” 

Mike paused for a second then said, “Listen, ah, do me a favor and don’t start checking out those local businesses till tomorrow morning, okay?” 

“Why’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, I don’t want you dressing like that,” he nodded at the tweed jacket, snappy shirt and tie. “Dress… down, I guess you could call it. T-shirt, old leather jacket, jeans, you know… like someone who lives in that area. We’ve gotta stay off of everybody’s radar and I don’t want you spotted. So no fancy sunglasses and wear a baseball cap. Try not to stand out.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a low chuckle. 

“And I have a feeling Brother Samuel and his… flock won’t be out and about first thing in the morning so it’ll be less likely you’ll run into them, which I don’t want you to do either.” He nodded sharply. “Besides, if I’m gonna be helping Neil, then the two of us’ll be back here in the afternoon and hopefully you’ll have something to tell me. Okay?”

Steve grinned. “Okay, works for me.” 

Mike stood up, playfully slapping the younger man’s arm. “Great…” There was a definite spring in his step as he headed back to his office and it made the younger man smile.

# # # # #

Mike exited his office and wandered to the coffee station, glancing over at his partner’s desk. Steve was hunkered over, his hands in his lap, reading an open file on his desk. He raised his head slightly and reached for the phone. Before he could dial he heard his partner say, “That was a call from Santa Fe.” He nodded back into his office. “They got nothing on Berger, not a thing. Total bust.”

Steve looked up. “Well, we weren’t really expecting anything, were we?”

Mike turned from the coffee station with his cup, taking a sip. “No, I guess not. They're gonna send up what they have on Sykes; we should get it sometime tomorrow. What are you doing?”

“Calling the credit card companies and the banks.” He chuckled dryly. “It’s such a painfully slow process…”

“Tell me about it,” Mike mumbled as he drifted back Ito his office and closed the door.

Steve sighed heavily as he looked down at the papers on his desk for the number he wanted to dial; he would have to go through the same routine over and over again. He would ask to speak to the person in charge, then would explain who he was and what information he needed. There would be skepticism, of course, and a reluctance to comply without some sort of proof that it was, indeed, a San Francisco Homicide inspector on the line, so Steve would give them his name and extension number, then encourage them to call the central SFPD phone number that they could look up themselves, not one he would give them in case in was bogus. They would then go through the switchboard and the call would be routed to Steve’s phone and then the actual detective work could begin.

Holding the receiver to his ear, Steve mumbled to himself, “There’s got to be a better way…”

# # # # #

Mike opened the trunk of the LTD and Neil reached in, picking up a large heavy paper bag and handing it to the lieutenant with a smile before reaching back in and picking up another. He slammed the trunk and they crossed the sidewalk to the bodega door. Neil knocked. 

The older woman Mike recognized from his previous visit opened the door with a huge smile. “Well, well, well, Lieutenant Stone, are we happy to see you,” she laughed when she spotted the tall detective standing behind Neil. “Come on in.”

She held the door for both men to enter. 

“Well, it’s a pleasure to be back,” Mike chuckled as he stepped past her deeper into the one-room schoolhouse. He turned back to her with a slightly embarrassed frown. “Ah, Carol, wasn’t it? Carol…?”

“Very good,” she laughed again, nodding her head. “Carol Stayner. You’ve got a good memory, Lieutenant.”

“Mike, please,” he insisted genially as they followed Carol deeper into the room towards a large wooden table pushed against the far wall. 

They were followed by the excited babble of the children. As they put the heavy bags down, Carol leaned a little closer to Mike. “They think the bags are full of sandwiches. You made quite the impression with your daughter, you know. You’re their Santa Claus, Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy all rolled into one right now.”

Mike was grinning at the kids, nodding as he made eye contract with every one of them; it was blatantly obvious to Carol and Neil his affinity for the children. Suddenly looking almost guilty, Mike turned to Carol. “Oh my god, I didn’t think of that. We didn’t bring any sandwiches,” he said quickly and apologetically.

She smiled at him kindly, putting a soft hand on his arm. “No no no, don’t worry about that. They’ll get over it, don’t worry. Neil here has been doing a wonderful job bringing them things from the restaurants and such.” She beamed at Neil and the Army vet dropped his head self-consciously.

“Ah, we’ve got another couple of bags in the car,” he said then looked at Mike. “I’ll get ‘em. Let Carol show you what we’ve done already.” He held his hand out and Mike dropped the car key in it.

“So, show me around,” Mike said, gesturing around the room. “You, ah, you seem to have more kids than the last time I was here.”

“Yes, we do,” Carol told him as they moved deeper into the large room, heading for a new blackboard sitting on brackets against the side wall. “We’re becoming a big hit; we’ve got seventeen kids now, and one more teacher. We’re trying to cover all the grades but it’s really hard. But we’re making do.” She smiled encouragingly.

“I hear you’re going to get some desks next week.”

“Yes, we are,” she said excitedly. “Oh, that Neil, he’s been a godsend, but you do know, Lieu-,” she stopped herself and smiled, “Mike…. You do know this is all your daughter’s work, right?”

He grinned with fatherly pride, nodding, and she could see his eyes brighten. “I was talking to her last night, and I told her what’s going on and how she should be proud of what she started.”

“Well, she really should be,” Carol said softly, looking around the small makeshift school with well-earned satisfaction. “She really should be.”

# # # # #

Mike was standing at the coffee station when Steve, looking more like a rebel without a cause than a detective, walked into the bullpen. Ignoring the catcalls and snarky comments from his colleagues, he approached his partner with his empty coffee cup and a balefully expectant expression. When the older man just looked him up and down without a word, he growled, “Come on, I can take it.”

Without a word, Mike took a sip as he headed back into his office. Frowning, his own cup filled, Steve followed. Mike was standing behind the desk, staring at him, and began to chuckle. “It suits you,” he managed to get out as he sat.

Bobbling his head in response, grinning smugly, Steve dropped into the guest chair. “Well, before you ask, it not only worked, but I got somewhere as well.”

The older man’s eyes widened. “Great, I want to hear all about it. But before you start, what are you doing tonight?”

Steve frowned. “Tonight? Ah, nothing right now that I know of. Why?”

“Good. Then you’re coming to my place. We have sandwiches to make.”


	53. Chapter 53

“Sandwiches?”

Mike nodded enthusiastically.

“For the kids at the school?”

“Unh-hunh. Carol said they really liked them.”

“Carol said?”

“Yeah. She’s the… the principal, I guess you could call her.”

“The grey-haired older woman that let us in that first day?”

“Yeah, that’s her.” Mike nodded again.

“So… didn’t you tell me things were working out with the restaurants and Neil and all that?”

“Yeah…” Mike was beginning to lose patience with all the questions. “So…?”

“So why do you need to deliver sandwiches tomorrow?”

“I don’t need to, I want to. Carol said the peanut butter and jam sandwiches were a huge hit and I’m pretty sure the restaurants aren’t donating peanut butter sandwiches… right?”

Steve relented with a quick chuckle and a smile. Sometimes it was just too easy to get under his partner’s skin, he thought, like shooting fish in a barrel. He started to nod. “You just want to see the kids again. I know you.” He started to laugh. “Of course I’ll help. I’ll even go with you to deliver them tomorrow if you want.”

Mike’s scowl turned into a broad grin and nodded. “Great… great, thanks. I’ll, ah, we gotta pick some more bread and peanut butter on way home. We can reheat some of Jeannie’s frozen pot roast for dinner if you want.” 

Steve’s eyes lit up as he sat up a little straighter, taking off the baseball cap and tossing it on the desk. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to fluff it up again. The move was like a wake-up call for his partner. “Oh yeah, right, what did you find out this morning?”

“Well, I found out I can stop waiting for the banks and the credit card companies to get back to me,” he relayed with a soft chuckle. “Our Brother Samuel and his coven pay for everything in cash.” He punctuated his statement with raised eyebrows.

Mike frowned. “Everything?”

“Everything,” Steve nodded. “Always has.”

“Wow,” the older man said. “Where the hell does he get that kinda money? It has to be from some place.”

Steve nodded.

“Okay, well, we have to wait to get the file on Sykes from Santa Fe, but I wonder if there’s something we can do here and now. I know they’ll be in the file, but I want to get his fingerprints as soon as we can. And I want to talk to someone I know at the FBI.” When Steve’s eyes widened, he continued quickly, raising his right hand, “Don’t worry, I won’t give them enough to want to take over the case, I just want them to do a thorough background check for us. There’s a guy I know that’ll do that for me; he kinda owes me one from a long time ago.” Mike wobbled his head with a slight smirk and a chuckle.

“Okay…” Steve said slowly, smiling knowingly.

“Anyway, when you get the chance, talk to the undercover teams and see if they can find a way to get his prints in the next day or so. See if they’ve noticed if Sykes is actually handling things or if he’s deliberately not leaving prints anywhere. That’ll tell us where his head is, so to speak. If he’s leaving prints all over the place, then he might not be afraid of someone identifying him as Brother Benjamin from New Mexico.”

Steve nodded, leaning forward to make a note on the pad on his desk.

Mike nodded at his partner’s outfit and smiled wickedly. “So, ah, so did you see the undercover team on your rounds this morning?”

Chuckling, the younger man looked up. “Oh yeah. It was Washington and Bardella. Bardella was sitting on the hood of their car down the street, shooting the breeze with a couple of the locals and Washington was working a three-card monte scam on the corner. I watched him for a bit; he’s good. He was making a few bucks.” They both laughed. 

“So did they notice you?”

Steve shook his head. “Well, at least I don’t think so. If they did, they were pretty fly about it.”

“Good, good.” Mike nodded, then he sighed heavily, his smile wavering. He growled playfully. “God, I wish it was us out there. I feel… handcuffed having to stay out of the neighborhood.”

“Hey, it was your idea -“

“I know, I know.” With a frustrated growl, Mike got to his feet. He got up and started back towards his office. “I’ll keep thinking happy thoughts…”

“Good,” Steve laughed as he got up to take off his leather jacket and roll up his sleeves.

# # # # #

Realizing they had hit a dead end on the homeless murders until the Santa Fe file arrived or the undercover teams came up with something, like fingerprints, Mike decided to take the time to catch up on some paperwork and the very overdue personnel reviews. 

Things had quieted down in the department, for a welcome change, so Steve, at loose ends for the afternoon, volunteered to make some much needed calls to various people and departments for a homicide that Grabowski and Flynn had picked up two days before. Just after four that afternoon, Haseejian and Healey wandered into the bullpen, returning from court. After peppering their young colleague with what they considered appropriately raunchy comments about his wardrobe, they wandered to the boss’s office to bring him up to speed on their testimony and another case they had just closed.

When they had finished, it was time to leave, Mike announced, reminding those still present that should any calls come in from the undercover teams, to make sure the appropriate information was recorded or, if it was deemed an emergency, to call him at home. Then, with his ball cap back on his head and his leather jacket tossed casually over his shoulder, a smugly grinning Steve followed his partner from the room, quietly giving everyone the finger as he left.

When the resultant loud hoots and laughter followed them out the door into the crowded corridor, Mike glanced back, frowning. “What was all that about?”

Steve shook his head with a shrug. “I have no idea,” he said innocently, leading them towards the elevators. 

# # # # #

“Well, well, well,” Carol Staynor chuckled knowingly when she opened the bodega door the next morning to see Mike standing there with a large paper bag in his arms. “You just couldn’t resist spoiling the kids again, could you, Mike,” she laughed, a twinkle in her eye as she held the door open for him and the handsome young man, holding another bag, who followed.

“Ah, you caught me,” Mike chuckled warmly, stopping just inside the door before turning to face the older woman. “Carol, this is my partner, Steve. Steve, Carol.”

She held out her right hand and Steve shifted the bag into his left arm and shook her hand. “We sort of met briefly that first day.”

“I remember,” she said with a broad smile. “So pleased to meet you, Steve.” She nodded at Mike. “The kids are just arriving. Let’s get these up to the office before they know what’s going on or we’ll won’t be able to do anything all morning!”

She nodded at one of the other ‘teachers’ across the room who distracted the few kids that were already present by showing them some of the new supplies that Mike and Neil had delivered the day before. The ruse worked and the three adults managed to get across the large room without attracting too much attention.

“You’ve got an office?” Mike asked, surprised.

Carol glanced back at him as she led them through a storeroom towards a staircase against the back wall. “Not really an office,” she explained. “There’s an apartment on the second floor. I think the owners lived up there. We’re using it for ‘offices’ and once in a while somebody stays here if they really need a place. We don’t allow anybody to stay permanently because we’re afraid of getting noticed, you know, lights in the window at night from candles or whatever…”

Mike was nodding to himself. He made a mental note to talk to someone at public housing to see what they could do, legitimately, to maybe rent this property. After the years he’d put in, he had friends all over local government, or friends of friends, and he was suddenly determined to get the ball rolling somehow.

“You have to keep moving around?” Steve asked, bringing up the rear.

Carol glanced back and nodded. “Yea,” she sighed sadly. “These kids can’t go to school because they have ‘no fixed address’, of course, and then when we set up these makeshift classrooms so they at least get least some schooling, the city comes along and shuts us down. It’s a vicious cycle.” 

They arrived at the second floor and she opened the door off the landing, letting them into a large apartment. There was a kitchen off the long hallway on the right, the entrance to a living room at the far end and what looked like two bedrooms and bathroom on the left. The kitchen still had a fridge and stove but because the electricity had been turned off, they weren’t of any use. The only light coming in anywhere was from the fairly large windows along the street side of the building.

As they put the bags of sandwiches on the counter, Steve flicked the lightswitch. “How come you have light downstairs but not up here?” he asked, puzzled.

Carol smiled. “You didn’t notice? We run a couple of extension cords from the business next door… the restaurant? They let us plug into their outlet in the back alley during the day, so that’s why we have so many lamps down there instead of using the fluorescents. Mr. Costello is a really nice guy; he doesn’t make much money, he’s just getting by too, but he lets us use his electricity.”

Mike glanced at his partner and raised his eyebrows. “I know where we’re having lunch today,” he said softly and Steve smiled, nodding.

“How long have you been doing this, Carol?” Steve asked, growing increasingly disturbed the more he learned. 

“Me? Oh, years. I mean not here, of course, but other places I’ve been. I’ve been working with street kids all my life…” Her voice was soft and her gaze suddenly far away, then she shook her head slightly and smiled self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I tend to get emotional sometimes when I see kids alone and living on the streets in rich cities like this one.”

“Surely the kids you have here aren’t all alone?” Mike asked, knowing that most of the children down below were under ten. 

“These one? Oh no no no, most of these ones have a mother who’s out trying to make a living but a couple of the older ones are on their own.”

Both men nodded solemnly, then Mike smiled. “Well, we better ourselves out of here and get to work.” Steve nodded and Carol chuckled. As they started towards the staircase, Mike asked, “So how long has this place been a ‘school’?”

“Oh, we just started up here about four months ago. We were in an abandoned house in Bernal before that, but that place was sold and we had to move.” She chuckled. “We’ve become very… mobile, I guess you could say.”

“Well, that might change a bit next week when those desks get delivered,” Steve chuckled.

“That’s true, but we’re very resourceful,” she laughed. “We’ll find a way if we have to move!”

They reached the ground floor and started across the classroom towards the front door. With a guilty smile, Mike peeled away and approached the small group of kids sitting on the floor in front of two of their ‘teachers’ near the blackboard. Steve watched him with a smile and shake of his head. “He can’t help himself.”

Carol chuckled with a warm grin. “I think it’s wonderful. Those kids’ll be calling him ‘Grandpa’ soon if he’s not careful.”

“Are you kidding? He’d love that.”

Steve watched for a second then frowned suddenly. “Carol, you said you’ve been in this neighborhood for four months.”

“Umh-humh” she nodded. 

“Have you ever had any… interaction with Brother Samuel and his… congregation?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my yes. Of course. Everyone around here knows them. Why do you ask?”


	54. Chapter 54

Steve glanced at his grinning partner, who was sitting on the floor surrounded by the kids, then turned back to Carol, trying to look and sound casual. “Oh, nothing specific. His name came up during an investigation and I just thought, if you knew him or saw him around, you might be able to tell us something about him, that’s all.”

She frowned slightly. “What kind of investigation?” she asked quietly, trying to make sure they weren’t overheard.

Steve shook his head, making a face. “No, nothing too serious, it was an harassment investigation, that’s all.”

“Harassment? You mean Brother Samuel harassed someone?” She sounded suddenly very worried.

“No no no,” he assured quickly, “not Brother Samuel. Someone harassing a couple of the women when they were out on their own.”

She began to nod, looking somewhat relieved. “Oh yes, of course. Well, I’m not surprised about that. I’ve heard some of the things those poor women have been called. It’s horrible. People just don’t understand them. They’re harmless. They keep to themselves and they don’t hurt anybody. But I guess it’s the way they’re dressed. I guess because of women’s lib and all that, these women look like throwbacks and that makes some people angry. They seem to think they’re slaves or something. But they’re not. I’ve spoken to some of them.”

“You have?”

She nodded. “Umh-humh. When I moved into this area, I was fascinated by them too.” She smiled self-consciously. “I finally got up the nerve to talk to one of them when I bumped into them in a grocery store. She was very friendly. And she said they have a wonderful life and they adore Brother Samuel.” She shrugged. “I guess ‘to each his own’, right?”

Steve chuckled. “I guess.” Across the room, he could see Mike start to get to his feet. 

“I just think it’s a shame that some people can be so mean to them. Things like that just shouldn’t happen nowadays,” she said quietly as they watched the senior detective make his way across the room towards them.

Grinning, Mike raised his eyebrows as he approached. “We gotta get to work,” he said to his partner before turning to Carol. “Thank you for letting me do that.” He put his right hand over his heart. “I needed that.”

She laughed. “You’re very welcome, Mike. Glad we could spread some joy.”

“And then some,” Mike chuckled as he started towards the front door. “And I’m gonna spread the word about the restaurant next door, see if we can gin up some business for him. You know, cops are always looking for new places to eat.”

“So I’ve heard,” Carol smiled as they got to the door. “Thank you so much again for… the sandwiches,” she dropped her voice to a bare whisper and snuck a glance in the direction of the kids, giggling.

Mike leaned towards her and lowered his own voice. “You’re welcome. And we’ll see you next week with the desks…” He snuck a quick look at Steve. “… if I don’t come back before then with more sandwiches.” Chuckling, he straightened up and opened the door, leading his smiling, head-shaking partner out onto the sun-streaked sidewalk.

As they headed down the street towards their car, Steve made a note of the Italian restaurant beside the boarded up bodega. “Gino’s,” he said out of the blue.

“What?”

“The, ah, the restaurant next door. It’s called Gino’s. Just so you know…”

“Oh yeah, thanks.” When Steve snorted, Mike glanced over at him with a furrowed brow. “I’m serious about eating there, you know, I wasn’t just saying that.”

“I know…” When Mike growled at him and kept walking, Steve chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “By the way, I asked Carol about Brother Samuel.”

The older man’s head snapped around. “You did? What did she say?”

They had reached the car and Steve circled the hood to the driver’s side, fishing the keys out of his pocket. “She knows who he is. She says everyone in the neighborhood does.”

“And?” Mike asked, looking over the roof as he opened the passenger door.

Steve shrugged. “She says they stay to themselves, they’re quiet, get along with everyone… no complaints.”

His brows knitting, Mike got slowly into the car. When they had both closed their doors, he asked quietly, “Do you think we’re barking up the wrong tree here?”

Steve paused as he was about to put the key into the ignition. “You mean about Brother Samuel?”

“Umh-humh.”

Exhaling loudly, the younger man let his hand drop away form the ignition. After a long beat, he shook his head. “I don’t know, Mike, I just don’t know. With all the digging we’re doing, we still haven’t got anything solid yet. And… well, he might be guilty of fraud or extortion or god knows how he gets his money… but murder…?” He shrugged. “I know there are those two suspicious deaths in Santa Fe… but he already served time for that. Would he chance doing that again, knowing he could be sent away for life?”

Mike was staring at him silently. “But what about Margaret Tolliver, if it really is her? Why is she with them?” he asked, playing devil’s advocate. Steve shook his head in bewilderment again. “I know you hate the word, but this time it really could be just a coincidence or, as we said before, it became a safe haven for her. Something as simple as that.”

The older man looked through the windshield. “Yeah…” After a couple of long beats, he said softly. “Let’s get back to the office.”

# # # # #

Steve looked up from the file he was reading. The inner office door had been closed since they had returned; he knew his partner had slowly reread everything they had acquired since Brother Samuel and his acolytes had appeared on their radar, and now he was sitting back in the chair, his head lowered, gaze unfocused, as he mulled over everything they knew and everything they didn’t.

Steve had waved off a couple of colleagues who had approached the office door, knowing his boss and partner was weighing the options, trying to decide if pursuing this particular avenue of investigation was worth the manpower or was turning out to be just a wild goose chase.

His attention had just returned to the file when a figure appeared in front of his desk and he looked up to see one of the uniformed young women who manned the desk in the lobby. With a coy yet somewhat awe-struck smile, she leaned forward slightly and held out a large and very thick manila envelope. “This just came for Lieutenant Stone,” she said, looking him with a directness he found a little disconcerting. He was not unaware of the spell he cast over certain women, as his partner never let him forget, but sometimes the blatancy caught him by surprise.

“Ah, thank you,” he smiled as he reached out for the envelope and bestowed on her his most charming smile. 

She opened her mouth slightly, as if to respond, but when nothing came out and she seemed to forget to release the envelope, he tugged on it slightly, pulling it out of her hand and nodding with a soft and light, “I’ll take that, thanks.”

“Oh, ah, ha ha,” she laughed softly, almost sexily, her eyes never leaving his and he nodded again, as if dismissing her.

“Thanks, again.”

She blinked several times, as if coming back to reality, then straightened, nervously running her hands down the sides of her skirt as if straightening it. “Oh, ah, you’re welcome… Inspector.” She bit her bottom lip as she turned, still looking at him, and slowly crossed to the anteroom door. When she was safely out into the corridor and the heavy wooden door had closed, the room erupted in catcalls and wolf whistles. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve groused as he got to his feet, unable to hide his embarrassed grin as he crossed to the door of the inner office. He knocked briefly on the glass panel just above his partner’s name then opened it, not waiting for an invite. He closed the door, throwing a murderous scowl in his colleagues direction as he did so. When he turned to the desk, Mike was staring at him with a smirk, which stayed in place as the younger man stepped closer and handed the package over.

Chuckling softly, Mike accepted the envelope then opened his top drawer and took out a letter opener, managing to keep his eyes on his obviously flustered partner. As he slit open the top flap, he said flatly, “They draw straws, you know.”

Steve froze briefly. “What?”

“The girls in R&I and the ones manning the front desk? Didn’t you know that? They draw straws when they have to bring something up here to Homicide to see which one gets the privilege. You’re, ah, you’re quite the attraction… for some reason,” he finished with an evil laugh.

Steve was looking at him as if stricken. After a silent beat, he said breathlessly, “You’re kidding, right?”

Mike chuckled again and shook his head. “Oh god no. Why would I make something like that up when the truth is so much more fun.” He opened the envelope, starting to pull the thick file out, and looked up at his young friend again. “Why to you think those knuckleheads out there always give you such a hard time?”

Steve wandered to the guest chair and dropped into it, frowning with a mixture of disbelief and utter terror.

Continuing to laugh softly, Mike dropped the file on the desk and opened it, reaching for his glasses already open on the desk and putting them on. He rifled quickly through the pages. “Wow, this is thick… and thorough, it looks like.” He started turning pages quickly. “Look, ah, why don’t I give this to you to go through with your usual thoroughness,” he chuckled again, glancing up, “and I’ll take the print card, if I can find it,” he muttered, continuing to look, “and take it down to R&I and then give my friend in the FBI a call and tell him what I’d like them to do?” He found the fingerprint card in a large white envelope at the back of the file.

Steve, trying to get his head back in the game, nodding absent-mindedly. “Ah, yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

Mike flashed him another smile. “Good.” He removed the white envelope, closed the file and dropped it on the other side of the desk. As Steve started to stand up, he stopped him with, “Ah, sit down for a second.” As Steve did so, he took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk. “Listen, I’ve been giving this whole… investigation some thought…. About what we said in the car…” He smiled slightly in frustration. “And I’m trying to be practical here… There’s a lot of things I’ve got to consider, not the least of which is our time, yours and mine.” He gestured between them both.

Steve nodded softly.

“And those three undercover teams we have out there…” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a rush. “If it turns out there’s nothing in there,” he gestured at the file, “and my FBI guy doesn’t turn up anything either in the next ten days, which is when our undercover teams get pulled… and if there isn’t another murder…” He hesitated and gritted his teeth; Steve knew what was coming and how hard it was for the older man. “If at the end of ten days we haven’t gotten any further, then we let this case grow cold and we put it aside.”

Steve stared at him evenly, then nodded slowly. 

“And, ah,” Mike continued softly, “and if any new cases come up between then and now… well, we’ll take it.” He sighed heavily.

“That, ah, that sounds like a good plan.” Steve stood and picked up the file. “Well, here’s hoping we find something in here we can use.”

Looking down at the desk, Mike nodded. It wasn’t often he was wrong, and he hated the feeling.


	55. Chapter 55

Mike’s mood had changed, and everyone in the bullpen could feel it. The normally optimistic and amiable detective had become not bitter but unusually quiet, almost reflective. And Steve was worried.

He had gone through the Santa Fe file on Benjamin Sykes with a fine-toothed comb more than once, but it had added nothing to what they already knew about the reclusive quasi-religious figure who now seemed to haunt his partner’s every waking thought. 

Mike had been successful in cajoling his FBI contact into authorizing a thorough background investigation into Sykes, using the fingerprint card as a basis. Something in the back of his mind kept telling him there was more to the ‘street preacher’ than met the eye, a feeling in his bones that all was not what it seemed. But also, for one of the first times in his professional life, he was second-guessing himself, and that was the most disturbing aspect of all.

He had been warned that the Bureau’s background check, because it would be considered not especially high priority, would take time, possible even a few weeks. And Mike had been cautioned to be patient; the result would be a more thorough investigation than any city or state law enforcement agency could every attempt to compile. 

Patience was not the lieutenant’s strong suit, and everyone knew it. But instead of becoming increasingly impatient, he was becoming increasingly withdrawn. And that was a development that was making his partner very concerned.

Steve was typing up a form when the phone on Sergeant Sekulovich’s desk rang. He knew that Haseejian and Healey were in line for the next case, but he had already spoken to them both about it; he wanted something to take Mike’s mind off of Sykes and the murdered homeless men. 

Sekulovich looked over at the young inspector and nodded, putting the call on hold and hanging up. A few seconds later the phone on Steve’s desk rang and he picked up the receiver with a grateful smile and nod. “Homicide, Inspector Keller.”

He listened, jotting down an address as he got to his feet. Mike noticed the familiar reaction and, frowning, stood up and crossed to the door, throwing it open before beginning to roll his right sleeve down and buttoning his cuff. As Steve hung up, he was already reaching for his jacket on the coat rack. “We got a case?”

Steve was smiling when he looked up, reaching behind himself to grab his jacket from the back of his chair and nodding. “Drowning in a bathtub at the Mark Hopkins.”

“The Mark?” Mike made an impressive face as he did up his collar button and tightened his tie before taking the fedora off the top of the coat rack. “We don’t get many calls there, do we?”

“No, we don’t,” Steve chuckled as he shrugged into his jacket then followed his partner to the door. He glanced over at Haseejian and Healey as he did, flashing them a grateful smile and a thumbs up. Both sergeants smiled back and nodded.

# # # # #

The small, dark-haired woman was crumpled in the bathtub, face down in the water and facing away from the faucet. Above her head there was a hole about chest high in the tiles where something had obviously been pulled off the wall. Leaning over the tub, Mike could see what looked like a towel-ring in the woman’s hand under the water.

“Looks like an accident, Mike,” Bernie said quietly. He was standing out of the way between the toilet and the far wall, making room for the two detectives to have a thorough look around.

Nodding, Mike straightened up and gestured at the hole in the tile wall. “So you think she was getting out of the tub, slipped and grabbed at the ring to steady herself and it pulled out of the wall?”

The coroner shrugged. “At first blush, that sounds about right, but I’ll know more when I get her out of the tub, of course.” 

Steve had leaned over the tub for a closer look. “Who found her?” 

“Her husband. That’s him out there,” Bernie gestured towards the bedroom. “Says he was out for a jog.”

“On Nob Hill?” Mike asked semi-rhetorically. “I hope he’s in great shape.” He looked at the coroner and nodded. “Thanks, Bernie.” He turned and left the bathroom; Steve followed.

A uniformed officer with a notebook in his hand was standing over a thirty-something man dressed in a t-shirt, shorts and sneakers, sitting on the side of the unmade bed, his head in his hands. The officer looked up and stepped towards the detectives. “That’s Mr. David Turley,” he said quietly. “He and his wife Elizabeth are from St. Louis. They’re here for a convention; he’s a realtor.”

Steve nodded, glancing at his partner. “There’s a real estate convention here this week; I saw the signs on the way in.” He pulled out his notebook and pen and started to make notations. 

Mike nodded. “So what does he say?”

The officer glanced at Turley, leaning in a little more. “He says he went for a jog this morning, like he does every morning, and his wife said she was going to take a bath. He says he found her like that when he got back and he called down to the desk right away. And they called us.”

Mike was staring at the obviously distraught husband, nodding slowly.

“Do you want to talk to him?” the officer asked quietly.

The lieutenant shook his head. “Not now. Let’s give him some time to pull himself together.” He looked at the officer and smiled. “Thanks. We can take it from here. But hang around, okay?” As the officer nodded and moved away, he looked at his partner. “Go down and check with the desk, the concierge and the doorman, make sure he did go for a jog this morning.”

Nodding, Steve put the notebook back in his pocket and, with an expressionless glance at Turley, left the room. As he disappeared through the door, two morgue attendants with a gurney and one of the M.E.’s photographers, followed by two worried-looking men Mike could only assume were part of hotel management, entered the large and well-appointed room. Not wanting to have to deal with them at the moment, he proceeded the small procession to the bathroom and positioned himself as Bernie had done, between the toilet and the far wall, out of the way.

He watched silently as Bernie supervised the removal of Mrs. Turley’s body from the water-filled bathtub.

# # # # #

Steve discreetly held up his open badge as he approached the front desk. The young man behind the counter looked down at the gold star, his eyes widening. Steve leaned over the high wooden barrier and lowered his voice. “Inspector Keller.” He glanced at the brass nametag on the young man’s black jacket. “Brian?” The young man nodded. “Can I ask you a few questions about one of your guests?”

“Umh, ah, yeah, I guess. Uh, what do you want to know?”

Steve put his badge away. “The couple in 1521. Mr. and Mrs. Turley. They’re here with the convention.”

“Just a second,” Brian said, turning to a large wooden credenza against the wall behind him and rifling through the hanging files. He pulled a folder, set it on the counter and opened it. “What do you need to know?”

From the corner of his eye, Steve saw a large, official-looking man in a dark suit, who had been leaning against a nearby wall surveying the bustling lobby, stride quickly towards him. “Brian,” the big man said firmly, his voice low but his tone unmistakable, his dark hooded eyes snapping from the clerk to the cop, “what are you doing?”

The young man looked back and forth, suddenly nervous. “Um, the, ah, the inspector is asking for some information on one of our clients -“

“Do you have a warrant?” the newcomer asked Steve.

Knowing he had to diffuse the situation, Steve smiled amiably. “I’m not asking for anything confidential, Mr. …?”

The big man’s eyes bored into the cop’s face. “Ruhle. Jack Ruhle. I’m the house dick. May I ask why you’re here, Inspector …?”

With a wry smile, Steve took his badge out of his pocket again and flipped it open. “Keller, Homicide.”

“Homicide?” Both Ruhle’s and Brian’s eyes widened in shock.

With a curt nod, returning his badge to his pocket once again, Steve nodded, his eyes boring into the hotel cop’s. “In case you didn’t know already, there’s a dead woman in one of your rooms. And we need to make sure it was an accident.” He turned to the clerk. “I just need to confirm their home address and when they arrived.”

“Ah, well, if there’s anything I can do to help,” Ruhle said, his attitude suddenly changed. 

Steve nodded with a grateful smile. “Yeah, I need to find out if anyone saw the husband going out to jog this morning.”

# # # # #

Mike watched silently as Bernie and his team slowly and carefully removed the body from the tub. Making sure that the bathroom and the victim were photographed from every possible angle and that the entire operation had been recorded, the medical examiner displayed once again why he was considered one of the best in the business. And not for the first time Mike was impressed.

After the body was covered with a dark blanket and strapped to the gurney, they started to wheel it through the bedroom towards the door. One of the hotel management stiffs crossed quickly to the coroner, almost vibrating with concern. “Uh, ah, you’re going to use the freight elevator, right?”

Bernie, always cool and composed, stared at the man patiently then nodded. “Of course,” he said calmly, his smile just this side of condescension. “We even know where it is.”

Standing near the bathroom door, Mike smothered a chuckle as he watched the coroner follow the gurney out into the hallway, the hotel employee trailing anxiously. The other management type zeroed in on him and crossed the room, barely glancing at the still distraught Turley sitting on the bed, the uniformed officer standing nearby. 

“Are you in charge here?” the prim, grey-haired man asked, frowning worriedly.

Losing his smile, Mike slipped his badge out of his pants pocket and opened it. “Lieutenant Stone, Homicide,” he said quietly, hoping Turley didn’t hear. When there was no reaction from the man on the bed, he turned his full attention to the smaller man in front of him, whose eyes were wide and startled. “And you are…?”

“Jonas Charles. I’m the day manager.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Did you say Homicide?” 

Mike nodded as he put the badge back in his pocket. 

Glancing over his shoulder towards the bed, Charles put a hand on the detective’s elbow and pulled him gently and smoothly back into the bathroom where the photographer was just finishing up. Mike nodded at the police department employee who returned the gesture and left the room.

Charles leaned close again. “Do you think this was a homicide, Lieutenant?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We don’t know anything yet, Mr. Charles,” Mike assured with a smile that betrayed nothing, “but we have to investigate every death that can’t immediately be determined to be from natural causes. And taking a fatal fall in a hotel bathroom is definitely not natural causes, wouldn’t you say?”

Charles, who was staring at him, waited a brief second before nodding cautiously. “I see. Well, how long is this going to take?”

Mike shrugged evasively. “That’s hard to tell. It depends on what we find, what her husband can tell us, and how long it takes the medical examiner to finish his examination.”

“I see,” Charles said again with a loud sigh. “And you will need us to keep this room… unoccupied?”

“And untouched, yes,” Mike nodded. “Until we’re finished with it.”

Charles looked down, his lips a tight line. “Yes, of course.” He looked up again. “And Mr. Turley?”

“Well, it would be a big help if you could put him in another room, if you have one?”

The day manager nodded. “We’ll figure something out.” He nodded over his shoulder towards the bedroom. “Do you really think he killed his wife?” There was a voyeuristic tone in his voice that surprised the veteran detective.

Mike smiled enigmatically. “Time will tell, Mr. Charles… time will tell.”


	56. Chapter 56

“Do you have a picture of this husband?” Jack Ruhle asked, glancing at the front desk clerk before focusing on the SFPD detective.

Steve shook his head. “Not yet. It just happened.” Both he and the house dick looked at the young man behind the counter. “You wouldn’t remember him by any chance, would you?” he asked, knowing it was an almost impossible longshot.

Surprisingly, the clerk nodded. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Even he sounded surprised. When the other two men frowned slightly, he nodded again. 

“Oh? Why?” Steve asked, not believing his impending good fortune.

“Well, I was working the same shift yesterday and Mr. and Mrs. Turley stopped at the desk to ask for a dinner recommendation. He told me they were from St. Louis and in town for the real estate convention. They wanted to go someplace special so I told them about L’Etoile just down the street.”

“How do you know it was the Turleys?” Ruhle asked.

Brian looked from Steve to Ruhle and back again, shrugging slightly. “He, ah, he introduced himself. He even shook my hand. I thought it was kinda strange; most of our guests barely know the staff exists, but he was very friendly. I thought it was because he was from the mid-west, you know…?” He shrugged again. “Especially when he did the same thing this morning.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Did what this morning?”

“Well, before he went jogging - at least I think he was going jogging, he was dressed like it - he came over to the desk here and thanked me for the recommendation for L’Etoile. And he shook my hand again and told me his name again.”

“He said his name again?”

Brian nodded. “Umh-humh.”

Steve glanced at Ruhle, both of them surreptitiously clocking the unusual behaviour. “What did he say exactly?”

The young clerk thought for a second. “Ah, he said, ah, ‘Hey, good morning. I’m Dave Turley from St. Louis. Do you remember me?’ And he held out his hand again for me to shake. Then he said something like, ‘You recommended that restaurant L’Etoile to my wife Elizabeth and me yesterday. We went there last night and it was terrific. I just wanted to thank you again. You made my wife’s night.’” Brian shrugged once more. “It was something like that anyway.” He chuckled dryly. “I thought it was kinda weird, but like I said, he’s from the mid-west…”

Steve suppressed a smile as he nodded. “Thanks. Ah, what time was that, do you remember?”

Brian raised his eyebrows and thought for a second. “Oh, about 8, I guess. My shift started at 7 and it was about an hour after that, I think.”

“Good. Ah, which door did he leave by, do you notice?”

“The front,” Brian said, gesturing at the three large glass front doors. 

“Thanks,” Steve nodded again, starting towards the centre revolving door, Ruhle following close behind. 

# # # # #

Mike gestured at the uniformed officer and led him a couple of steps deeper into the bathroom so Turley couldn’t overhear; the distraught husband was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “The hotel is moving him into another room. I want you to stay with him, tell him to leave everything here for now and we’ll have his stuff moved to his new room when we’re finished in here. And tell him we’ll interview him a little later and he’s not to go anywhere until then.”

The young officer nodded. “What if he asks to change clothes?”

Mike shook his head. “Not yet. I’m going to get the lab boys in here to go over things. And I want to them to take his clothes. So make sure he doesn’t do anything to compromise what he’s wearing, even if you have to follow him into the bathroom. If he has a problem with that, tell him it’s routine.”

The patrolman nodded then leaned forward a little more, dropping his voice to a bare whisper. “You think he killed her?”

Mike smiled enigmatically. “I don’t know what I think right now, Bowerman,” the lieutenant replied softly, reading the name on the I.D. tag, “but I’ve learned never to take anything at face value. And you shouldn’t either.” His smile widened and he gently slapped the fresh-faced young cop on the arm as he nodded back towards Turley.

“Yes, sir,” Bowerman nodded with his own smile as he turned away, crossing the large room towards the motionless husband.

Mike drifted slowly back into the bathroom, staring at the pools of water on the floor, the still-filled bathtub, the towel-ring at the bottom of the tub and the hole in the tile wall. He sighed heavily as he shoved his hands into his pants pocket.

# # # # #

“Charlie, this is Inspector Keller,” Ruhle made the introduction to the uniformed doorman. “He wants to ask you a couple of questions, if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” the tall older man with the distinguished light grey Van Dyke and welcoming smile agreed readily, turning his very warm soft blue eyes on the detective. “Charlie Harrison,” he said with a tip of his cap. “How can I help you, Inspector?”

“Thank you. Ah, were you on duty this morning around 9?”

“Yes, I was,” Harrison said. “My shift starts at 6. We have a lot of early risers staying here,” he chuckled.

“Good, good,” Steve smiled. “Ah, did you notice one of your clients going jogging this morning around that time… mid-thirties -“

“Mr. Turley?” Harrison interrupted, his eyes snapping to Ruhle briefly. 

After a brief stunned moment, Steve nodded. “Ah, yes… ah, you know Mr. Turley by name?”

The doorman snorted. “Well, not really. But when he came out through those doors this morning,” he pointed at the revolving door, “he came right up to me, introduced himself, told me he was from St. Louis, and told me he was going jogging. Said something about he hoped he wouldn’t have a heart attack on the hills, laughing about it, you know.”

“Ah, didn’t you find that a little, I don’t know… strange?” Steve asked, frowning.

Harrison snorted again. “Strange is not the word I’d use, Inspector. I think bizarre covers it better. I’m used to be ignored, by and large, and I’m fine with that. In all my years as a doorman here, and there’ve been a lot, believe me, I’ve had maybe a half dozen people do that, and every time I’ve thought it was weird.”

“I bet. So, did you see him come back?”

“Yeah,” Harrison nodded. “I was helping this couple out of their taxi when he jogged by. He yelled, ‘Hi!’ and waved.” He made a face and shook his head with a soft chuckle. “It was very… odd.”

“Do you remember what time that was?’

The doorman shrugged. “I’m not sure. 9:30, 9:40…? Sorry.”

“No problem,” Steve smiled. “You’ve been a big help.” 

All three men glanced up when a black van pulled into the circular driveway. Steve looked at Ruhle. 

“That’s the crime scene technicians. Where would you like them to park?”

# # # # #

Mike was still in the bathroom when Steve returned with two of Charlie’s underlings. He told them what he wanted them to focus on, then led Steve down the corridor to the room Turley had been moved. He stopped in the corridor and turned to his partner. “So, did you learn anything?”

The younger man beamed. “Oh yeah.” Steve told him about Turley introducing himself to both the desk clerk and the doorman. Mike listened with a deepening frown and growing look of disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked in incredulity.

Chuckling, Steve shook his head. “Nope.” He glanced towards the hotel room door. “So how do you want to handle this?”

Mike snorted. “Well, I don’t want to tip our hand right away. I want to hear what he tells us first. Let him think he’s pulled one over on us. I don’t want to go for the jugular until we’ve heard from Bernie after the autopsy’s finished.” He paused for a few beats, thinking. “Let’s just get his statement and then I want to go back to the office. I want to talk to Bernie.”

“Sounds good.” As Steve took a step closer to the door to knock, he glanced back at his partner. “So, what, you think we’ll close the book on this one by tomorrow night?” he chuckled.

“Tomorrow night? What, are you getting rusty?“ Mike shot back as he reached past his young friend and knocked on the door.

# # # # #

Turley, still in his t-shirt, shorts and sneakers, was sitting on the edge of the made bed. His eyes were red but there was no sign that he had actually been crying. Mike pulled the chair from the desk closer to the bed and sat; Steve leaned against the desk, his notebook and pen in his hands. Bowerman stood near the door.

“Mr. Turley, I’m Lieutenant Stone, this is Inspector Keller,” Mike introduced them, nodding over his shoulder at Steve and deliberately not mentioning Homicide.

Turley’s bloodshot eyes almost drifted from one detective to the other, as if he was drugged. If he’s faking his grief, he’s doing a good job, Steve thought to himself. There was a strangled breath then, “Ah, David Turley…”

Smiling kindly, Mike nodded. “Thank you. Ah, Mr. Turley, I know this is a difficult time, but we need to you to tell us about what happened to your wife… just for our records. You understand, I’m sure…”

Turley was nodding almost unconsciously, his gaze drifting away, looking down. “I understand. Ah, what do you need to know?”

“Well, ah, we need you to go through everything that happened this morning.”

“Everthing…?”

“Yes, from when you and your wife got up this morning until you found her in the bathtub.”

Turley was still looking down but his nodding became more pronounced. “Okay… Ah, well, we, ah, we’d gone out for dinner last night…” He looked up and met Mike’s stare, a smile briefly crossing his features. “L’Etoile. Have you ever been there?” he asked, and the question startled the two detectives. 

“Ah, yes, I have actually,” Mike responded, briefly and uncharacteristically thrown.

“It’s wonderful,” Turley said softly, looking down again. “We loved it… my wife loved it. And, ah, we slept in a bit this morning. I’m usually a very early riser but we had a little too much to drink last night, I guess…” He chuckled softly to himself. “Ah, I guess we woke up about 8:30…?” He shrugged slightly. “The first seminar today isn’t until noon so I was going to go for a jog and then we were going to order room service…” His face crumpled slightly and he inhaled sharply. “Elizabeth said she was going to take a bath…” he barely got out as his voice wavered and he brought both hands up to cover his face, his shoulders shaking.

Mike leaned back in the chair and looked up expressionlessly at his partner. Steve looked back, briefly raising his eyebrows.

Waiting a few long moments for Turley to pull himself together, Mike asked, “Where did you jog to, do you remember?”

Turley lifted his head from his hands, no tears visible, and stared at the seemingly sympathetic lieutenant. “I, ah, I followed the cable car tracks… ah, down Powell? To, ah, to Union Square… and then I came back.” He almost smiled again. “I, ah, I had to walk back… I didn’t realize these hills are so steep..” There was a feeble attempt at a chuckle.

Mike smiled. “Yes, they are. That’s why the locals don’t jog, for the most part.” He leaned forward, exuding compassion and understanding. “What, ah, what happened when you got back?”

Turley looked stricken and his stare unfocused. “I just thought she was still in the tub when I got back, taking a long bath…. I called out for her a couple of times but she didn’t answer me.” He swallowed heavily. “So I went into the bathroom…” His voice started to shake and he bit his upper lip. “And I found her…” He started to wail and dropped his head back into his hands, his entire body shaking.

Mike turned to look at his partner again, and they both nodded.


	57. Chapter 57

They waited until Turley had pulled himself together enough to continue. Mike leaned forward, his face a mask of compassion; only Steve knew what his partner was really thinking and he managed contain his amusement.

“I know how difficult this must be for you, Mr. Turley, the shock… but I need to ask. What, exactly, did you do when you found your wife?”

Turley pulled his face out of his hands and stared at the lieutenant, his eyes red and moist but, surprisingly, no tear stains on his cheeks once again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you try to get her out of the tub, try to revive her?”

The bereaved husband shook his head, frowning. “No… no. She was dead. There was no point, was there?”

“You knew she was dead without checking?” Steve asked from his position behind his partner, and Turley’s eyes changed focus, his frown deepening. 

“Well, ah,” he stumbled, his eyes flicking back to the lieutenant briefly, “well, she wasn’t moving, and her face was in the water. And I saw that hole in the wall where the towel ring had been…” He shrugged helplessly, looking at Mike again. “Oh my god,” he whispered loudly, “do you think I could’ve revived her?” 

Mike smiled grimly, shaking his head, and reached out to touch Turley’s knee in comfort. “Probably not… but, well, I know if it had been my wife, I would’ve tried…”

Turley’s stare turned inward and his face crumpled. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he started to repeat over and over. He buried his head in his hands again and his entire body started to shake.

Mike looked up at the uniformed officer and nodded as he got to his feet. “Mr. Turley, this officer here will help you move your things into this room when our, ah… our people are finished in yours. We’ll leave you alone for now, but we’ll probably need to talk to you again after your wife’s -… well, after the coroner determines the cause of death.”

Turley’s head snapped up. “It was that damn towel ring. I’m sure of it. She probably fell and tried to stop herself, and that damn ring pulled out of the wall.” He started to sob and covered his face again.

Mike looked at Bowerman again and raised his eyebrows, then gathered Steve with a nod and led his partner out into the hallway. After Steve closed the door, he looked at the older man and shook his head. “You don’t believe him, do you?”

Mike shook his head sharply and snorted. “No. Do you?”

“No. But I gotta admit, he’s a better actor than I thought he would be. He’s got that fake grieving thing down really well.”

“Yes, he does,” Mike agreed as they returned to 1521. The door was being held open with a wooden stop and the two forensics techs were still hard at work in the bathroom. When the two homicide detectives stepped into view in the doorway, one of them looked up and nodded.   
“How’s it going, fellas?” Mike asked with a smile.

It looked like the entire room was covered with fine black fingerprint dust. The tub was still full, the ring lying on the bottom. One of the techs pointed at the hole in the tile wall. “That would seem to be the culprit, Lieutenant. Looks like she might have taken a fall and grabbed it.”

Mike pursed his lips, his hands in his pants pockets, and nodded. “Yeah, looks like it, Don.” His eyes raked the small room. “Okay, fellas, we’re gonna let you do your thing. Make sure we get your report as soon as you’re finished.”

“You got it, Mike.”

“Listen, ah, can you make sure the door is locked when you leave. I’m gonna have the hotel keep this room off limits for the foreseeable future until we release it.”

“Okay, will do.”

Steve followed his partner out into the hallway again. “So what do you want to do right now?” he asked as they headed down the corridor to the bank of elevators.

“Well, I’m gonna have a talk with Bernie. I have a couple of questions. Why don’t you take a stroll down Powell?”

“You mean retrace Turley’s jogging route?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded as he pressed the Down button. He looked at his partner with a mirthless smile. “I want to know if he killed her before or after his run.”

# # # # #

Powell was extremely steep as it headed south towards Union Square. Steve was walking slowly, trying not to aggravate his still iffy back muscles. His recovery from the bone bruises incurred during the earthquake had been steady and promising, and he didn’t want to set progress back in any way. As he watched the cable car rumble by him, he was grateful he was walking downhill. And he would grab a cab back to the Hall when he was finished so he didn’t have to attempt that torturous uphill climb to the top of Nob Hill on his return. 

The knowledge that Turley had gone out of his way to introduce himself that morning to both the desk clerk and the doorman was churning around in his mind. It stood to reason that if Mrs. Turley had been murdered by her husband and he was using his jogging as an excuse to be out of the room when she had her ‘accident’, then it was imperative that he was noticed. And the fact that he had specifically jogged to Union Square, a popular tourist spot, mid-morning, probably meant that he would’ve made sure he was noticed there as well. 

The problem, as Steve figured it, was where would he have done that. Making himself noticeable on the street would have been fairly easy to do, but finding those random witnesses would be a problem, both for the police and Turley to use as an alibi. So, he figured, it was probably done in an establishment that could be easily located for confirmation.

At that hour of the morning, diners and cafes would be the logical places, the inspector thought, and, figuring that Turley would pick someplace neared Union Square as it would add credence to his cover story, as he crossed Sutter Steve started looking for eating establishments on both sides of the street.

He spotted a small coffee shop on the other side of Powell and crossed at the light. He pulled his badge out of his pocket as he opened the glass door and stepped inside.

# # # # #

Mike knocked on the opaque glass door and waited for the “Come in!” before entering. Bernie was at his desk, filling out a form, when the lieutenant stepped closer to the desk. “What brings you down here, Mike? I haven’t had a dead homeless guy recently.”

Mike snorted. “Yeah, that one’s on a back burner right now, I’m afraid. We’ve run out of leads.”

The medical examiner looked up, frowning. “Jeez, sorry to hear that. I thought you guys were getting somewhere with that one.” 

Mike grimaced, tilting his head. “Yeah, we thought so too, but we hit a brick wall. Hopefully something will drop into our laps before another body winds up on your table.”

“Yeah…. So, ah, what can I do for you?”

“That, ah, that drowning at the Mark…?”

Bernie’s eyebrows shot up. He reached across the desk and picked up a metal medical clipboard. He flipped it open, his eyes quickly scanning the top sheet. “Yeah, I got the initial report here. A woman drowned in one of the bathtubs. A fall.” He looked up at the detective. “You don’t think so?”

Mike smiled mirthlessly. “Let’s just say I have my suspicions. When do you think you’ll get to her?”

Bernie snapped the clipboard shut. “If you think it’s suspicious, I’ll get right on it. What do you want me to look for?”

“Well, from the scene, it looks like she was taking a bath, started to get out of the tub and might of slipped and grabbed for the towel ring on the side tile wall. The ring came out and it looks like she fell and hit her head on the tub and drowned.”

“And you don’t think that’s what happened?”

“No, I don’t. She’s a small woman, barely bigger than my Jeannie, and I don’t think she could pull that towel ring out of the wall… unless there was some kind of… construction flaw. And we’re talking the Mark here, right? Not a motel in the boonies somewhere.”

The coroner nodded.

“Bernie, how long does it take for bruises to come out after someone dies?”

“You mean antemortem bruises - bruising that would happen right before a person dies?”

“Yeah.”

Bernie shrugged. “Depends. Sometimes 24 hours, sometimes a little longer. Not everyone bruises the same way.”

Mike frowned. “So we have to keep the body for a least two days, hunh?”  
“You think that might be a problem?”

The detective raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Yeah, I do. The Turleys are from St. Louis, as he keeps telling everybody,” he snorted, ignoring Bernie’s confused frown as he continued, “and I have a sneaking suspicion he’s either going to try to have his wife cremated as soon as possible, or he’s going to ask for her body to be shipped home immediately. I need you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Well, I’ll do the best I can, but if he shows up here with a court order, I won’t have a choice. Unless you can get the D.A. to prevent that from happening.”

Mike pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “Well, guess I’m gonna have to pay Gerry a visit.”

# # # # #

After two diners and a coffee shop proved disappointing, Steve opened the glass door to Stella’s Bakery; the warm and inviting aromas of fresh bread and dark roast coffee washed over him and he smiled with pleasure. His badge in his hand, he approached the young woman behind the counter.

“What can I get you this morning?” she asked brightly with a beaming smile that wavered slightly when she saw the badge. “Oh -!”

Bestowing upon her his most charming smile, he chuckled quickly and raised his other hand. “I just want to ask you a question, that’s all.”

As her brows started to knit with worry, he glanced at the glass display case. “Ah, I’ll have a cup of coffee and, ah,” he took a half-step to the side to study the offerings, “and one of those butter croissants, please.”

“Sure,” she said a little unsteadily, “ah, what would you like in your coffee?”

“Oh, ah, a little milk, no sugar, please.” 

As she moved away to prepare the coffee, she asked, “What would you like to know?”

“Ah, yes, have you been working here all morning?”

She nodded as she poured the dark coffee into the cardboard cup. “Sure have. I opened up. The bakers,” she nodded over her shoulder towards a room in the back, “they come in at 2 to start the baking and I arrive at 7 to open up.” She poured a little milk into the cup.

“Ah, this is going to sound like a silly question, but around 9, 9:30 this morning, did a man in his thirties, dressed like he was jogging, come in here for a cup of coffee or a pastry?”

Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, do you mean Mr. Turley from St. Louis?”

Steve frowned momentarily then smiled. “Ah, yeah, that would be him, yes. So he was in here?”

“Oh, yeah. He got a coffee and a Danish to go.” She crossed back to the counter and put the steaming coffee down in front of him. “He was a real sweetheart. He was so excited to be here. Said it was his first time to San Francisco and he couldn’t wait to take his wife to see The City from Coit Tower.”


	58. Chapter 58

Steve was still chuckling when he walked into Homicide an hour later. Mike, in shirtsleeves and reading glasses, was on the phone, the inner office door closed, so he stopped at his desk and took his jacket off. He dropped into his chair and began to check the few telephone messages stuffed under his own phone.

When he caught his partner hanging up out of the corner of his eye, he dropped the pink phone messages on the desk and crossed to the inner office, not even bothering to knock as he opened the door and entered. Mike glanced up and smiled, then pointed at the phone before taking off his glasses and tossing them on the desk.

“That was Gerry. I want to make sure Turley doesn’t try to pressure the M.E.’s office into turning his wife’s body over to him prematurely. And I’ve asked Bernie to keep the body for at least another two days, in case there are bruises that don’t show up for awhile.”

Steve nodded with an impressed facial shrug. “Good thinking.”

“So? Did you come up with anything?”

The younger man grinned and sat back, lacing his fingers behind his head. His chuckle sounded almost cruel. “Oh yeah…”

Mike lowered his head and smiled expectantly. “What? He stopped people while he was jogging and introduced himself?” he asked facetiously and his partner laughed again.

“Pretty damn close. It wasn’t random people on the street but close enough. He went into a bakery and bought a coffee and a Danish.”

Mike raised his right hand. “Don’t tell me - he introduced himself.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Yep, to the girl behind the counter. And told her he was from -“

“St. Louis, yeah, of course he did…” Mike’s gaze drifted away slightly and he chuckled. He rubbed his right hand over his face and shook his head. “How in the world could he possibly think doing that would constitute a viable alibi?” he asked rhetorically, a touch of genuine wonder in his voice.

Steve raised his eyebrows and shook his head slowly. “So have you heard anything from Bernie yet?”

With a quick shake of his head, Mike pursed his lips. “No, it’s too early. We might get something later today but he knows about my desire to keep the body for a couple of days so he might drag it out to give him a legitimate excuse not to release it, in case Turley puts in a formal request.” He shrugged. “Who knows? He might not but I don’t want to take that chance.”

His partner nodded in agreement.

“But I’ll tell you what I want to do. I want to find out more about that towel ring. I’m gonna give the hotel a call and talk to that… that Charles guy. I want to visit a room exactly like the one the Turleys were in and I want to do a little experiment.” He smiled coyly. “I have an assignment for you that I think you’re going to like.”

Steve took his hands from behind his head and sat forward with a smile. “Oh yeah, what would that be?

“Well, you are… acquainted with the, ah, the female contingent in every department on the force… are you not?” Mike asked carefully.

Frowning warily, the younger man pulled back slightly. “A passing acquaintance, yes…”

“Passing acquaintance,” Mike echoed softly, “right, yeah…. Anyway, ah, are you aware of anyone, any female officer about the size and weight of our Mrs. Turley?”

Steve smiled. “You want to see if she had the strength to pull that ring out of the wall?”

The older man nodded slowly.

“Well, off the top of my head, there are a couple of women I think fit the bill. One of them is in Vice, the other in Records.” He smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “You, ah, you want me to… approach them and see if one of them is interested and available?”

With a smirk, his partner nodded again. “Yes, ah, I want you to… approach them.”

Steve shot to his feet and started for the door.

“Set it up for tomorrow morning,” Mike called after him as he crossed quickly to his desk and grabbed his coat on the way to the door. “I’ll set the time after I talk to the guy at the hotel.”

Acknowledging the request with a wave of his hand but without a backward look, the young inspector fled the Homicide office as his partner’s laugh filled the room behind him.

# # # # #

“I’m really glad you’re doing this, Lieutenant,” the snappily-dressed day manager muttered as he slipped the key into the lock. “This hotel has an exemplary safety record and if the towel-ring coming out of the wall like that was partially responsible for that poor woman’s death… well, you know what that can do to our reputation.” He glanced over his shoulder as the tumblers clicked over and he turned the knob, opening the door for the small law enforcement contingent. 

“That’s why we’re here, Mr. Charles,” Mike said flatly as he led his partner, a crime scene tech with a videocamera and a female officer from Vice into the empty hotel room. 

“That’s good to hear because Mr. Turley has everyone on edge.”

As the others continued on to the bathroom, Mike turned to Charles. “What do you mean?”

The older man took a deep, steadying breath, avoiding the suddenly concerned blue eyes that were staring at him. “He demanded access to his old room last night, saying he needed to get something in his wife’s suitcase that he forgot. Well, our night manager didn’t think that was going to be a problem, so he let him into the room with another man.”

“Another man?”

Charles bobbled his head, obviously embarrassed by this breach of protocol that had happened without his knowledge or approval. “I wasn’t on duty, Lieutenant Stone, or I wouldn’t have allowed it, you can be sure of that. As a matter of fact, I didn’t find out about it until I arrived this morning.”

“That’s, ah, that’s fine but… who was this other man, do you know?”

The day manager exhaled loudly. “It turns out he’s Mr. Turley’s lawyer.”

“His lawyer?” Mike was trying to keep his growing anger under control.

“Yes. And before my man could stop them, they had disappeared into the bathroom and were taking photos of the bathtub. I have a feeling Mr. Turley is going -“

“To sue, yes,” Mike finished for him, nodding. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well, let’s see what we find out here right now and then we’ll know where we all stand. How does that sound?”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I appreciate it.”

Mike slapped him on the shoulder then headed towards the bathroom. The young blonde woman, Officer Susan Colton, her shoes off, was already standing in the bathtub, both hands on the towel-ring; Steve, his shoes on, was also in the tub, standing behind her. The tech was standing a few feet away from the tub with the camera at the ready. 

Steve nodded as his partner appeared in the doorway. “We’re ready to give it a go.”

Mike glanced at Charles, who was standing slightly behind him at the entrance, then nodded. Colton, who was looking at the lieutenant, fixed her attention on the towel ring then, with all her might, threw herself backwards. The ring held as her backward momentum was abruptly interrupted and she began to quickly slide on the slick enamel. Steve grabbed her to prevent her fall; she laughed as he caught and steadied her. 

With an embarrassed chuckle, she looked up at the lieutenant as she got back on her feet. “Let me try that again.”

Mike nodded once, grandly, and gestured with his right hand. “By all means…”

She glanced back at Steve and smiled. “Want to do that again?”

“As often as you want,” he laughed, flashing a cheeky grin towards his partner.

Colton looked at the tech with the camera. “Ready?”

He nodded. “I’m still filming…”

After a beat, she threw herself back again, with the same result. Mike stole a quick glance over his shoulder at Charles; the manager was looking downright relieved.

“Lieutenant Stone, I’d like to do it once more, okay?” Colton asked quickly. “I’d like to throw myself more downwards… you know, like she would do if she slipped and went straight down…?”

Mike nodded. “Sound good to me. Steve, are you okay to be her catcher again?”

The younger man shot him a reassuring glance and nodded. “I’m okay, don’t worry.” He punctuated his answer with raised eyebrows and a second nod.

“Okay, have at it,” Mike said softly.

Colton hesitated for a beat then, both hands once again on the ring, threw herself down as if she was falling. The ring continued to hold and she slid frighteningly quickly towards the tile wall; Steve’s arms shot out to grab her, enfolding her waist just before she hit the wall. It was so startlingly fast that even Mike had reached out automatically to break her fall.

Still in the inspector’s arms, she looked up at the very concerned lieutenant staring at her worriedly. “Sorry, sir, it won’t budge.”

Mike began to chuckle. “Don’t be sorry, Officer. You just proved what we’ve been thinking all along. Are you okay?”

She chuckled as she got her feet under her and stood up; laughing slightly as she slowly pried Steve’s arms from around her waist. “Ah, I’m okay, Steve, you can let go now…”

The inspector looked up at his partner and chuckled self-consciously.

# # # # #

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Mike teased with a smile and a chuckle as he led them into the bullpen. “You had to do some pretty exhaustive catching there, and you’re not a hundred percent yet, you know…” 

“I’m okay… you can stop asking me…” the younger man replied snarkily as he drifted towards his desk. As Mike headed to his office, Steve shrugged his jacket off. “I’ll head down to the M.E.’s office in a few minutes and see what Bernie has for us so far. What are you gonna do?”

Mike looked back as he took his hat off and dropped it on the coat rack. “Me? I’m gonna give the police department in St. Louis a call. If Turley is already thinking about suing the hotel, what are the odds, you think, that’s he has a huge life insurance policy on his wife as well?”

“Oh, I’m liking them odds, Lieutenant,” Steve chuckled as he headed out the door again, rolling up his sleeves as he went.

Mike dropped heavily into his chair and picked up the receiver of his black phone. As he called the switchboard, he mumbled under his breath, “Boy, I’m gonna enjoy slapping the cuffs on this guy…”


	59. Chapter 59

Tanner and Lessing were in Mike’s office when Steve wandered back into the bullpen over an hour later, three paper bags in his hands. He stared through the glass, hoping to attract his partner’s attention as he deliberately set the bags on his desk. As if feeling the eyes boring into him, Mike glanced over; Steve raised his brows and one of the bags and watched as the older man’s eyes widened. Within seconds, the two junior detectives were getting to their feet and the office door opened.

Steve grinned and chuckled at them as he picked up the bags and headed into the small office, Mike watching him with anticipation the entire way. “What have you got there?” he asked as the younger man entered, grinning, and set one of the bags down in front of him before sitting in the guest chair and putting the other two on the desk.

“Well, I got finished in the M.E.’s office fast and, as it’s a nice day out there and it was getting close to lunch, I’d thought I’d take a walk over to Eddie’s and pick up a couple of -“

“You got us Reubens?” Mike interrupted eagerly, his eyebrows climbing even higher. 

Grinning, Steve nodded at the bag in front of his partner. “I got us Reubens. I even got us drinks.” He opened one of the bags and took out two cans, putting the ginger ale on the other side of the desk and keeping the Coke.

Mike started to open his bag. “Oh my god, you read my mind.” He reached in and pulled out the waxed-paper wrapped sandwich and set it on the desk. “Thank you, buddy boy.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve grinned as he took his own sandwich out.

The older man inhaled with pleasure as he unwrapped the corned beef and rye. “How much do I owe you?” he asked, not taking his eyes from the welcome concoction as he picked it up awkwardly, trying to keep the gooey melted Swiss cheese off the cast.

Steve had already taken a bite and was chewing. Mike did the same as he waited. Swallowing, the younger man picked up the Coke and took a sip. “Nothing. It’s on me.”

The blue eyes snapped to him as their owner froze momentarily, then they frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. My treat.” Steve took another bite, then grinned with his mouth closed.

“Well, thanks, buddy boy.” Mike sounded both surprised and sincere. “I appreciate it.” He took another bite and rolled his eyes in ecstasy.

Steve chuckled. “You’re welcome,” he said with his mouth full.

They ate in companionable silence for a couple of minutes then Mike asked, “So, did Bernie have anything for you yet?”

Steve shook his head as he put his can of Coke on the desk. “Nothing that we don’t already know. She has a large cut on her forehead where she hit it on the edge of the bathtub, like from a fall, and there was bathwater in her lungs. So she did drown, and she did hit her head. But whether that was really from a fall or if she had a little help, well, that’s something he can’t tell us yet.”

Mike nodded. “That figures.”

“But he said he’s going to wait, like you asked, for another thirty-six hours to see if any perimortem bruises show up.”

The older man frowned. “Perimortem? I thought it was antemortem?”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “That’s what I thought too, but I was corrected. Perimortem means at or near the time of death and antemortem means before death.”

Mike’s gaze unfocused and he made a facial shrug. “Hunh…. Well, ‘you say po-tay-to and I say po-tah-to’,” he sang briefly then chuckled. 

Steve laughed and shook his head. “However, I did find out that that… lawyer that Turley hired called the M.E.’s office this morning, asking for a copy of the death certificate.”

Mike’s eyes shot wide then he frowned. “Already?”

The younger man nodded. “Guess Turley is hoping to get his wife’s body out of town before we put two-and-two together.”

Mike chuckled dryly. “Well, I think we’re well past the simple addition stage of this investigation. I think we’ve shot right past long division and have started algebra already, don’t you?” There was a chuckle from the other side of the desk. “Did you get the name?”

“Of the lawyer?” The older man nodded. “Yeah, I got it.”

The last couple of bites of his sandwich still in his hand, Mike leaned back in his chair and stared at his partner. “But seriously, though, how could this Turley guy possibly think that - not to toot our own horn here - that a couple of big city homicide detectives wouldn’t see through his almost amateurish machinations…?” He shook his head almost sadly.

Steve took a deep breath and shrugged, shaking his head. “The only thing I can think of is he’s read too many Agatha Christies… or Ellery Queens…”

Mike chuckled. “Yeah, that’s a possibility, I guess.” He took a bite of his sandwich, chewing for a bit before saying, “Well, I guess we’re lucky we get dumb ones once in awhile, hunh?”

# # # # #

“So, you’re going to find out about that lawyer?” Mike asked as he crumpled up the waxed paper and tossed it in the wastepaper basket as Steve stuffed his in the paper bag and handed it over for Mike to dispose of. 

“Yeah, I’ll call around and see what some of his colleagues have to say about him.” 

“Good.” Mike brushed the few and barely noticeable crumbs off the desk. “I’m going to go talk to Charlie, see if he’s come up with an idea of how Turley got the towel-ring off the tile without making a mess of the wall.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too. Crowbar, do you think?”

“Maybe, but where did he get it from and what did he do with it?”Steve chuckled and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t know, brought it from St. Louis in his suitcase?”

They both froze and looked at each other. “Do you think -?” Mike started and the younger man nodded. 

“In his wife’s suitcase? Could that be why they wanted to get back into the room the other night, so they could get it and get rid of it?”

Mike reached for the phone. As he picked up the receiver, he looked at his partner. “You got the number of The Mark handy?”

Steve jogged to his desk, fished his notebook out of his jacket pocket and raced back, flipping it open. He read out the number.

Mike glanced at the younger man as he waited for the call to be answered. “Yes, this is Lieutenant Stone from the San Francisco Police Department. I need to speak to Jonas Charles, please…. Yes, thank you.” He looked up again and raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Mr. Charles, this is -… Yes, ah, you know you told me about Turley and his lawyer asking to get back into the room the other night?… Yes…. Yes, do you know if your night manager was with them the entire time they were in the room?…. Okay, that would be great… Yes, I’ll be here. I’ll wait for his call. You have my number?…. Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” He hung up and looked at his partner again. “He’s going to have the night manager give me a call, if he can get hold of him. He’s obviously not at the hotel right now. This might take awhile.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, seeing as you’re tied to your desk, why don’t I make a couple of calls about that lawyer and get the ball rolling, and then I can head down and talk to Charlie?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Hopefully by the time you get back that night manager will’ve gotten back to me and we’ll know if we have to head over to The Mark again.”

“Right.” As Steve turned to leave, the older man stopped him.

“Hey… ah, thanks for lunch,” Mike chuckled.

“My pleasure,” the young inspector laughed as he walked away.

# # # # #

“Well, to tell you the truth, I can’t find any marks on this thing that tell me it was pried off the wall with a hammer or a crowbar or anything,” Charlie said with a grim smile as he picked up the large clear plastic evidence bag holding the towel-ring. “I mean the base is slightly bent but that’s what you would expect if it came off the wall like it did.” He looked up at the inspector. “How big was the person who did this?”

“A woman in her thirties, about five-foot-two, hundred-and-ten pounds.”

The big man’s eyebrows soared towards his hairline. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

Steve shook his head. “We did a demo this morning in an identical room using someone with a similar build and weight. You haven’t seen the video that John shot for us this morning?”

The head of the crime lab shook his head sharply. “No, I’ve been busy. Homicide may be having it light right now but the other departments are swamped, just so you know.”

Steve pretended to recoil, raising both hands placatingly. “Sorry,” he chuckled and the big man laughed. “Anyway, Mike and I did a test with a policewoman the same size as Mrs. Turley, and I guess I don’t have to tell you that the towel-rack didn’t move.”

Charlie snorted and looked down at the evidence bag on the counter. “That’s not surprising. There’s no way a woman that small could’ve done this.” His brow furrowed and he thought for a few beats. “Listen, ah, I want to have a look at that bathroom myself. Any chance I can go over there with you and Mike later today and have a really good look at it.” When Steve began to nod, he continued quickly, “Don’t get me wrong, Steve, I’m not second guessing my guys on this one. They got great photos and I’m sure the video is good enough to stand up in court, but I want to see things for myself. Maybe I’ll have an idea about how he did it. How does that sound?”

“That sounds perfect. Mike’s waiting for a call right now that might take us back to The Mark today anyway, so we could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Let me get back to you.”

# # # # #

Day Manager Charles opened the door to 1521 then stood back to allow the two detectives and the imposing head of the crime lab to enter the room ahead of him. “Just shut the door after you when you’re finished, Lieutenant,” he confirmed from the entrance and Mike looked back as he crossed the room.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Charles. We appreciate the cooperation.”

The hotel manager smiled and nodded then closed the door. The small procession headed straight for the bathroom. After Steve had told his partner about the lab head’s misgivings about the towel-ring being torn from the wall with the aid of an outside source, the urgency to rifle through Mrs. Turley’s luggage had abated. But both detectives had clocked the closed but unzippered suitcase on the luggage rack against the far wall as they crossed the room.

As Charlie studied the hole in the tile wall and entire bathtub area, the detectives looked on silently. His hands in latex gloves, the analyst took the towel-ring out of the evidence bag, which he gave to Steve, and placed it against the tile wall where it had hung for so many years without incident. His trained eye studied the base of the ring and the tile, then he took a step back in the tub and studied the wall intently. “How big is Mr. Turley?”

Mike glanced at his partner. “A little bigger than Steve.”

Eventually a soft smile spread over Charlie’s features and he looked at both detectives. “Well, I can show you how he did it, but that hotel manager might not like it.”

The lieutenant frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re gonna have to record it, so we only have to do it once, and then nobody will be able to contest it in court.” Charlie turned to Steve. “We need to get John and his handy videocamera back here,” he looked at Mike, “and I need you to talk to Mr. Charles. We’re gonna need that other room again.”


	60. Chapter 60

“So what did he say?” Charlie asked when Mike returned to the room. The crime scene investigator was sitting in the desk chair, making notes on the hotel notepad; Steve was on the phone, standing between the beds.

The lieutenant chuckled as he moved deeper into the room. “Well, he wasn’t too thrilled when I told him what we wanted to do, but when I mentioned it would probably save the hotel a massive lawsuit, he began to see the light. I just need to give him a shout when we have everybody here and then he’ll let us into the other room.”

“Okay, thanks, see ya soon,” Steve finished the call and hung up. He turned to his partner with another scowl. “I don’t see why -“

“No,” Mike said firmly. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re not back on full duty yet… sort of,” he said quickly when Charlie’s head snapped towards them both, frowning. He cleared his throat and raised the cast on his forearm. “And neither am I,” he confessed with an insouciant shrug. “And I don’t want you to do anything to set your recovery back.”

The analyst’s frown deepened. He pointed at Mike. “I can see what your problem is, but what’s wrong with him?” He gestured at Steve.

Before the younger man could respond, Mike explained quickly, “He’s still stiff and sore from the… you know… the earthquake.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah, I forgot you guys were caught up in that warehouse collapse. That sure was nasty,” he muttered almost under his breath as he returned to his note-making. “Oh, ah, John is on his way here with the camera.”

“And Bill’ll be here as soon as he can, with his sneakers,” Steve offered, frowning dejectedly, “I still say I could do it.”

“I bet you could,” Mike commiserated, “but you’re not going to get the chance to try, not this time. I need you in one healthy piece.”

Steve growled and shook his head, putting his hands on his hips and taking a short circular walk between the two beds. When Charlie had told them what he wanted to do, Steve had immediately volunteered and Mike had immediately vetoed him. After a brief, mostly one-sided, argument, they had decided Bill Tanner would be their best bet.

With a glance and a smile at his partner, Mike drifted into the bathroom. He was staring down into the empty tub when Steve joined him. 

“So, ah, if this experiment of Charlie’s works, what do you want to do next?”

“Well, I still want to wait for Bernie to finish the autopsy and I want to hear from the St. Louis PD, so Turley can cool his heels until at least tomorrow. Did you ask Bill if there were any messages from him or his lawyer?”“Yeah, there weren’t. Maybe Turley and his Shylock are trying to figure out how to get her body home before we figure out what he did.”

Mike chuckled, his eyes running slowly over the bathtub and the broken tile wall. “I think you’re giving him too much credit. I think he’s already convinced he has us fooled and he’s just biding his time until he thinks we finished with him.”

Steve grinned. “Yeah, maybe.”

# # # # #

Forty-five minutes later, Day Manager Jonas Charles let the five men into the unoccupied room they had used for their first experiment. “Just so you know, Lieutenant, I have been on the phone to our CEO and, after I explained everything to him, and I do mean everything…” The dapper hotelier cleared his throat softly. “Well, he saw it your way as well.”

Mike smiled. “I thought he might.”

Charlie had stepped into the tub for a closer look at the towel-ring while Tanner sat on the toilet to change his shoes. After studying the ring and the way it was attached to the tile wall, the big man grabbed it with both hands and gave it a mighty pull. It held. With a slight smile, he glanced at the manager and smiled. “Your hotel is very well maintained, Mr. Charles,” he chuckled as he got out of the tub.

Looking a little flustered, Charles nodded. “Ah, thank you. We try.”

Charlie turned to his tech with the videocamera. “John, I’m gonna need you to get into the tub.”

Everyone looked at him. Frowning, John moved closer. “In the tub?” he asked hesitantly.

Smiling, the big forensic expert pointed at the end of the tub with the showerhead. “Yeah, in the tub - that end.”

“Okay,” John said tentatively, carefully stepping over the side, wishing he was wearing sneakers instead of his leather-soled dress shoes. Mike looked at Steve and they shared a confused shrug.

Charlie looked at Tanner. “Ready?”

The black inspector got to his feet, grinning. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess. What do you want me to do?”

The scientist beckoned him closer and pointed at the tub. As Tanner lifted his right leg to get in, Charlie grabbed his arm and stopped him. “No no no, not from in it…” He pointed at the ring. “From here.”

Everyone else frowned. “From out here?” Tanner asked.

Charlie nodded. “Umh-humh. The base of the ring was bent slightly on the right side, and that wouldn’t’ve happened if the ring was pulled straight down. So the pressure to pull it off the wall had to come from this direction.”

The partners looked at each other and Mike raised his eyebrows. “That makes sense.” He looked at Charlie. “We were trying to figure out how Turley could’ve gotten the ring off the wall without A - getting wet, or B - doing it before he killed his wife without her hearing him do it.”

Steve snorted slightly. “I actually thought he might’ve held her under and drowned her, then drained the tub so he could get the ring off the wall and put it in her hand, then filled up the tub again.”

Charlie looked at the young inspector with appreciation. “I like the way you think, Steve. That would’ve been a way to do it. Unfortunately the evidence points to the pressure coming from outside the tub.” He laughed. “But good try.”

Preening slightly, Steve grinned at his partner. Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head, chuckling.

“Okay, Bill, try to pull it off with both feet on the floor,” Charlie instructed.

Nodding, Tanner wrapped both hands around the ring and pulled with all his strength but it held. He glanced at Mike and shrugged slightly. The lieutenant smiled encouragingly. 

“Okay,” Charlie said, his brow furrowing as he studied the ring and the wall again, “put your left foot on the edge of the tub, then rear back with all your might.” He positioned himself behind the young inspector.

Taking a better grip on the ring, Tanner braced himself then, after taking a deep breath, threw himself backwards. The ring held but they could all hear a crunching noise that sounded suspiciously like a tile cracking. Tanner glanced over his shoulder at Charlie, who nodded encouragingly. Tightening his grip again, Tanner repeated the move; with a grinding pop, the ring snapped off the wall. Tanner tumbled backwards into Charlie with a loud “Hey!” then brandished the ring in his right hand. “I did it!”

“Yes, you did!” Mike laughed as he took a step closer to his inspector and slapped him on the shoulder. “Well done.”

Laughing, Charlie took the ring from Tanner’s hand and gave it a closer look. Almost immediately he held it up for the others to see. He pointed at the base. “Look here,” he said with satisfaction, “this one’s bent the same way as the other one.” He glanced at the tile wall. “This is definitely the way he did it.”

Grinning, Mike patted the scientist on the back. “Thank you very much, Charlie. You’ve just answered a lot of questions for us.”

“Glad to be of help,” came the deep-throated chuckle as he stole a glance at the hotel manager, who was looking a lot more relieved than when they had arrived.

# # # # #

Mike was almost whistling as the entered the bullpen and crossed to his office. Steve stopped at his desk, starting to flip through the pink phone messages as he took his jacket off. As he read one message, he lifted his head and his voice slightly. “I got a call back from one of my lawyer friends. Maybe he has some dirt on Turley’s mouthpiece for me.”

“Good,” Mike called back, dropping his hat and jacket on the rack before circling the desk. He checked his own messages. “Nothing from St. Louis yet but I got a call from Neil and one from Washington.” He frowned. “Well, I guess I have to wait to hear back from them…” He sunk into the chair. “Damn, I knew I shoulda picked up something to eat on the way back,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” Steve asked as he crossed to the office door, his phone messages in his hand.

Mike looked at him almost guiltily. “I can’t leave until I hear back from Neil and Washington, and I have some reports I have to go over tonight anyway…” He glanced at his watch. “Damn…”

Steve smiled. “Tell you what. Let me call my lawyer friend back and then I’ll go out and get you something to eat. And then maybe I can get out of here in time to take Jennifer to dinner…?”

Mike grinned. “That works for me. Does that work for you?”

Steve’s smile got a little wider, and a little naughtier. “Oh yeah, that works for me.”

# # # # #

Mike drained the last of the ginger ale then dropped the can in the wastepaper basket. He adjusted his glasses slightly as he pulled the report closer, leaning over his desk, when the phone rang. “Homicide, Stone.”

“Hey. Mike, it’s Neil. Wow, I didn’t expect you to be at work this late. How are you doing?”

“Neil. I’m doing great. How are things with you?”

“Busy, man, busy. There’s a whole lot of new stuff going on, good stuff. Listen, ah, I won’t keep you but I was wondering if you might have some free time in the next few days. I could use a hand. It’s not anything labour intensive, I just need somebody to bounce some ideas off of and to help me pick up some stuff, you know, for the school.”

“Ah, sure,” Mike said, trying to figure out if he could do it. “Look, ah, Steve and I are up to our eyeballs in a case right now but we should be able to wrap it up in the next day or two. Why don’t you call me back two days from now… that’s be Friday, right? And I’ll let you know. I might be able to take the weekend off. Would that do?”

“The weekend would be incredible. Oh, and I can introduce you to my new wheels,” Neil laughed.

“You got the van?”

“Sure did. With insurance and everything. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”

“All right, Neil, look forward to it. Talk to you on Friday.” He was smiling long after he hung up. It didn’t take long for the phone to ring again. “Homicide, Stone.”

“Lieutenant Stone, this is Benny Washington. You got a minute, sir?”

“You bet,” Mike chuckled, taking off his glasses and tossing them on the desk. “How’s it going out there, Benny?”

“Well, sir, that’s what we wanted to talk to you about. I know none of us has checked in with you or Steve in the past couple of days, but that’s because we haven’t had anything to report. There’s just been nothing happening, sir.”

Mike frowned and rubbed his eyes with his left hand. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Have you seen them at all?”

“Well, between all three teams, we’ve seen Brother Samuel four times in the past ten days. The women we see more often but… well, nobody’s done anything the least bit suspicious. And everybody in the neighborhood seems to love the Brother.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Mike exhaled in frustration. “Well, Benny, let’s persevere until the two weeks are up, okay?”

“You bet, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks for checking in.”

“You’re welcome, sir. Have a good night.”

“You too.” Mike hung up then sat perfectly still. Were they wrong? Was Brother Samuel as pure as the driven snow like he seemed? He took a deep breath and let it out in a frustrated rush. In his heart he knew he was right, but the seed of doubt in his mind was beginning to grow.


	61. Chapter 61

Mike was chuckling silently to himself when Steve strolled into his office the next morning, looking once more like the cat that ate the canary. His jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and fresh cup of coffee in hand, the younger man sank slowly into the guest chair with a very smug smile, deliberately taking a sip of the steaming brew while his partner stared at him with an amused smirk. 

“Well, I guess I don’t have to ask you how your evening went, do I?” Mike asked rhetorically as he moved the papers on the desk around unnecessarily, then took his glasses off and dropped them on top. “You’re… relaxed, are you?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“Oh yeah,” Steve grinned wickedly, taking another sip of coffee.

“Good.” The older man chuckled, glancing at his watch. “You took your time getting in this morning, so it must have been a very… late night.” He raised his eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact, Jennifer went home just after midnight. But I spent my morning on the phone.”

Mike eyed him warily. “Really? Trouble in paradise?”

“No,” the younger man almost whined, “she had an early morning and she wanted to get a good night’s sleep… which she more than likely wouldn’t have gotten if she stayed at my place -“

Mike’s right hand shot up. “Okay, I’ve heard enough.” They both laughed. “So, ah, were your phone calls successful? Did your lawyer friends have anything to say about Turley’s shyster?”

“You mean Robert S. Manchester the Third?”

“Yeah, Robert S. Manchester the Third.” Mike snorted. “Do you think that’s his real name or do you think he got it out of a phone book?”

Chuckling, Steve leaned forward, cupping the mug in both hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. “Well, I’ve got some really interesting information about him.”

Mike leaned forward as well, interlocking his fingers as he rested his forearms on the desk. “Do tell.”

“Well, the first thing is, he’s not from here.”

“He’s not a local?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope. One of my guys said he’s only been here about five years. He’s not sure where he’s from but he’s definitely not from The City.”

Mike grinned. “Like you.”

Taking a beat to smirk at his smug partner, Steve nodded. “Yeah, like me.” He snorted dryly. “Anyway… he’s everything we thought he would be.”

“An ambulance chaser.”

“Yeah, my friend Ralph says he doesn’t know him but he knows of him. He’s gotten pretty famous amongst the… disputation for his -“

“The what?” Mike looked confused.

Steve grinned. “Disputation.”

“What the hell is a ‘disputation’?”

“Well, as I found out this morning, it’s the collective noun for a group of lawyers.” He raised his eyebrows to punctuate his explanation.

“Disputation?”

“Umh-humh.”

Mike snorted a laugh. “Well, it fits… I guess. Go on.”

Steve nodded once. “Anyway, Manchester doesn’t like to go to court, it seems, so he always gets clients who have been in an accident or had an accident, like a fall, and gets them to sue for astronomical amounts of money then threatens to go to court and then -“

Mike was already nodding. “Yeah, they settle out of court for a lesser but still impressive amount and everybody’s happy.”

“Yeah.”

The older man shrugged. “Well, it’s not illegal. Unethical maybe, but not illegal.” His brow furrowed slightly. “I wonder who got in touch with who first?”

Steve grinned and leaned forward to put his mug on the desk. “Well, I think I have an answer to that one, Lieutenant.”Mike dropped his head slightly and his eyes narrowed. His smile turned expectant. “You do?”

Closing his eyes briefly, the inspector gave one slow nod. “I had a hunch of my own this morning. And one of my phone calls was to the bar association in St. Louis.”

The tumblers in Mike’s mind were already starting to fall into place and, as his eyes widened, his smile turned to disbelief. “Son of a bitch…”

Steve nodded again. “He practiced law in St. Louis for two years before he moved out west, they told me. He started out his career as a personal injury lawyer and he was very good at it, it seems. Decided to try his luck in a bigger city, with deeper pockets.”

They stared at each other for a long beat before Mike shook his head slowly. “What are the odds, you think, that Turley knew him before Tuesday?”

“Better than even money, I would think.”

“Me too.” Mike leaned back, still shaking his head. “That was some hunch, buddy boy.”

Picking up the cup again, Steve leaned back and laughed. “Well, I learned from the best, so…” He shrugged as he took a sip of the cooling coffee.

“Yeah, right -“ Mike began to deflect the flattery when his phone rang and he quickly grabbed the receiver. “Homicide, Stone…. Yeah?… Great. Yeah, we’ll be right down.” Steve was already getting to his feet when Mike hung up and stood, starting to roll his sleeves down. “Bernie’s finished with the autopsy. Says he has something to show us.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly.

“Then let’s go see.”

# # # # #

“You’ve got good instincts, Mike,” Bernie greeted them as they came through the double doors to the autopsy room. There was a body covered with a blue blanket on a trolley in the centre of the room.

As they moved closer to the trolley, the coroner pulled the blanket away down to the waist. Mrs. Turley was lying on her stomach, her head turned to the left; the hair on the back of her head had been shaved. Bernie pointed to the backs of her upper arms; on the outside of her arms were four long thin dark blotches, and on the inside, one smaller oblong bruise. Then he pointed to the back of her head; there was a discoloured lump at the base of the skull.

“He didn’t want to kill her outright, the drowning had to be legit, so she needed to have water in her lungs. He knew that much,” Bernie explained. He pointed to the back of her head again. “He hit her hard enough to knock her out or maybe just incapacitate her enough to slam her forehead into the edge of the tub then hold her under so she would drown. From the position of the bruises, I’d say he was in the tub with her; easier to maneuver her to hit her head on the edge and hold her down.” He pointed to the bruises on the back of the Mrs. Turley’s arms, then raised both hands, holding them out in front of himself as if holding two imaginary cups of coffee. “Like this.” 

Mike, who was looking at the body almost sadly, nodded slowly. “Thanks, Bernie. This is the nail in the coffin we need.”

The balding medical examiner smiled grimly. “Glad I could be of help. I’ll finished the report and get it up to you as soon as I can.”

“Thanks.” Mike led his partner back out into the corridor and they slowly made their way to the elevators. “When we get back upstairs, give Turley a call and tell him we’d like to see him and his lawyer in here this afternoon to finish this up. Two o’clock.” He pushed the Up button. “With any luck, we can get everything wrapped up before we go home tonight.”

Steve chuckled. “That would be nice. I’d have to type the reports, but still…”

The chime sounded and the doors opened. They stepped into the empty car, both moving to lean against the back wall. Mike shoved his hands into his pants pockets. 

“So what did Neil have to say?”

Mike’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, ah, well, he didn’t have much to say. Except that things are going well - really well, he said. He’s got the van, by the way.”

“Oh yeah? That’s great.”

“Yeah. Anyway, he said he has some things to tell me and he wants to know if I could help him with some stuff for the school so I’m thinking of maybe taking the weekend off to give him a hand.”

Steve smiled affectionately, knowing their lack of progress with the homeless murders was weighing heavily on the veteran detective’s mind. “I think that would be a great idea. You know, I really wish he’d consider moving out of that Oak Street house if we could find him another place but he’s pretty adamant he doesn’t want to move.”

Mike shrugged. “Well, I think he likes the idea that they consider him their guardian, so to speak. I really think he likes that role. Don’t you?”

The younger man nodded with an agreeing snort. “Yeah, I think you’re right.” The elevator slid to a stop and the doors opened. They started down the corridor towards Homicide. “Did you hear from Washington?”

“Yeah. Nothing there, from any of the teams. From what he said, Brother Samuel is a saint.” Mike took his hands out of his pockets and opened the door. He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m beginning to think we’re just spinning our wheels but I told him I want the teams to hang in there until Sunday when I have to pull the plug.” Steve stopped at his desk while Mike continued on to his office. “Never say die, right?” he chuckled as he stopped in the doorway and looked back. “You’re gonna call -?”

“Right away,” Steve smiled, grabbing the notebook on the top of his desk and flipped it open as he picked up the receiver.

# # # # #

Steve was in his partner’s office with the door closed when Tanner entered Homicide with Turley and Manchester in tow. The slick lawyer in the expensive suit and hundred dollar haircut was carrying a fancy leather briefcase; Turley, in a conservative charcoal gray suit, looked slightly worried.

They were lead across the bullpen to one of the interrogation rooms. A large trolley with a TV and videotape recorder was already set up in the far corner. There was a pitcher of water and two glasses on a tray in the centre of the table.

Tanner closed the interrogation room door and wandered to his boss’s office. He knocked perfunctorily on the door and opened it without waiting for an invite. 

“We got it, Bill, thanks,” Mike smiled with a nod and the black inspector returned the nod then shut the door and moved to his own desk.

Mike looked at his partner with a contented smile. “Let’s wait a few minutes, let them stew.”

“Works for me.”

After a couple of beats of silence, Mike asked, “So, you gonna take this weekend off as well?”

“I’ve been thinking about that. Jen’s going away for the weekend but she’s back the week after so I might delay it a week. Besides, there’s some paperwork I can get caught up on if you’re not breathing down my neck all the time.”  
Mike frowned slowly. “I beg your pardon…?”

Steve’s face split into a broad grin and he chuckled evilly. 

“Funny. Really funny…” After a beat, Mike’s attention drifted towards the phone. “You know, we still haven’t heard from the FBI yet. Maybe when we get finished with Turley I’ll give my guy a call.”

“Couldn’t hurt.”

Mike exhaled loudly and glanced at his watch. “Okay, you wanna do this?”

“Why not?”

They both got up, doing up their collar buttons and tightening their ties. Mike crossed to the rack for his jacket while Steve picked his off the back of the chair and they shrugged them on.  
Mike adjusted his cuffs as they started across the bullpen. 

Opening the door of the glass-walled interrogation room, both detectives smiled broadly as they entered. “Good to see you again, Mr.Turley. Glad you could join us.” As he sat in the chair closet to the door, Steve slipping into the one beside him, Mike clasped his hands together as he rested his forearms on the table and smiled benevolently. “This shouldn’t take too long.”


	62. Chapter 62

Mike’s benevolent visage turned to the Brylcreemed lawyer with the unctuous smile. “I believe we haven’t have the pleasure…?”

The perfectly manicured right hand shot across the table. “Robert Manchester. I’m Mr. Turley’s lawyer… obviously,” he said with a well-rehearsed chuckle. 

Mike reached out to take the hand and shake it, squeezing just a little harder than necessary. “Lieutenant Stone,” he said flatly, staring without blinking into the dark eyes across the table. When he released the hand but didn’t say anything else, Manchester looked at Steve.

With a relaxed smile, the younger detective leaned forward slightly to shake hands as well. “Inspector Keller,” he said with a nod, dispensing with his first name as his partner had done. No reason to get too friendly.

Mike’s eyes slid easily from the attorney to the suspect. “So, Mr. Turley, I bet you’ll be glad to have all this behind you.”

The ‘bereaved’ husband dropped his eyes and shook his head sadly. “You have no idea, Lieutenant. It’s been a nightmare. I just want to get my wife’s body home to St. Louis so I can give her a proper funeral.”

“Yes, of course,” Mike commiserated, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs, leaving his left forearm in the cast resting on the table. He could see Manchester eyeing it curiously but decided not to elaborate; let the lawyer’s mind race through all the possibilities, he thought with unexpressed delight. He took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Well, unfortunately, Mr. Turley, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

Both pairs of eyes on the other side of the table shot towards him and he raised his eyebrows and tilted his head with a facial shrug. “But… but why not?” Turley exclaimed and Manchester quickly laid a hand on his forearm, squeezing to shut him up.

“Well, you see, we have some… well, some reservations about the way your wife died.”

“Reservations?!” Turley almost shouted and the hand on his arm tightened considerably.

“What do you mean by reservations, Lieutenant?” Manchester asked, his voice low and even.

“Well, you see, we did a little experiment with the towel-ring in another room, an identical room, in the Mark Hopkins, using a policewoman the same size and weight as your wife, Mr. Turley, and…. Well, let’s just show you.” He turned his head slightly. “Steve…”

The younger man got up and moved to the tall trolley with the TV and the large studio-size VCR against the back wall. He turned on the TV, picked up the remote control, returned to the chair and sat. Fuzzy black-and-white ‘bars’ were wavering on the TV screen. He pushed the button and, after much clicking and whirring, the video of the hotel bathroom, Steve and the policewoman in the tub, appeared. As the experiment and its results played out on the screen, the two detectives watched Turley closely; he stared open-mouthed, not blinking.

When the video came to an end, Steve pushed the Pause button and the picture froze, flickering. Turley continued to stare at the screen but Manchester turned to face the detectives. “That doesn’t prove anything, Lieutenant. All that proves is that your policewoman wasn’t strong enough to pull the ring out of the wall, or that that ring was affixed more securely than the one in 1521.”

Mike, who was smiling benignly, looked at Turley, who was still facing the TV but looking down, his stare unfocused, as if he was trying to figure out what to do next. “How did you get rid of the crowbar, Mr. Turley?” Mike asked sharply.

Turley’s head snapped up; he was unable to mask the look of guilt that briefly washed over his features before he blurted out, “I didn’t use a crowbar!” then froze, as if realizing what he had just said.

Beside him, Manchester’s eyes widened; to Mike and Steve, it was almost as good as if the lawyer had thrown his hands up in surrender. 

Smiling slightly, Mike leaned forward, putting both forearms on the desk again. He pursed his lips and grunted softly. “You see, Mr. Turley, the correct response to what I said would have been more along the lines of ‘What do you mean, a crowbar?’ or just plain ‘What?’. But you see, you saying what you said, well, that leads us to believe that you managed to get the ring off the wall some other way.”

Manchester, who had shot intermittent glances at his client, who was staring dumbfounded at the detective, leaned forward slightly. “That’s not what happened, Lieutenant, and you have no proof that that ring came off the wall any other way than Mrs. Turley pulling it off when she fell.”

Mike made a face and tilted his head. “No, you see, we had our lab boys take a good look at that tile wall in the bathroom, and there was no sign of rot in the wooden stud that the ring was bolted to. As a matter of fact, they could find no fault at all, in the wall or the screws that held it in place. The only conclusion they could come to was that the ring was pulled off that way through… brute strength.”

Manchester smiled slightly with a deep chuckle. “Brute strength,” he echoed and Mike nodded. He looked at his client. “Look at him, Lieutenant. Mr. Turley is no Charles Atlas. Now maybe someone your size, sir, could pull that ring off the wall, but Mr. Turley? I wouldn’t think so.”

Mike nodded slowly, as if giving the argument serious consideration. “I see what you mean, Mr. Manchester, I do.” He glanced at Steve. “Would you think Mr. Turley is about the same size as the inspector here?”

Manchester looked at Steve and nodded. “Yes, I would say so.”

“How about that inspector who brought you up here, Inspector Tanner? He’s a little taller but about the same weight.”

Starting to frown slightly, the lawyer nodded. “Yes, I guess so. Why?”

His smile getting a little wider, Mike looked at Steve and nodded once. The younger man pressed the play button on the VCR and the tape started to roll again. After a very fuzzy few seconds, the same bathroom appeared on the screen once more, only this time instead of Steve and a policewoman in the tub, Tanner was standing outside the tub, a large black man standing beside him, giving him instructions.

By the time the video ended, Turley was looking down and stricken, while Manchester was staring straight ahead, his gaze unfocused and his lips pursed. He removed his hand from his client’s forearm and dropped both hands in his lap.

The detectives watched them silently for several long seconds then Steve got up, returned the remote to the top of the VCR then reached down and picked up a manila file folder than was lying on the bottom shelf of the trolley. He brought it back to the table, sat down, put it on the table and opened it.

As he picked up a small stack of 8x10 colour photos and laid them out one by one on the table so Turley and Manchester could see them, he said quietly and calmly, “It took awhile, but the bruises on your wife’s arms finally appeared. Antemortem bruising takes time but it does make itself known; you just have to be patient and wait.”

He placed another colour photo on the table; it was a shot of the small lump and discolouration on the back of Mrs. Turley’s head. “A fall in a bathtub could have caused the large bump on your wife’s forehead, hard enough to knock her out, no doubt about that. But how do you explain the other bruise, a fresh bruise, on the back of her head as well, and the handprints on her arms. The prints that could’ve only been made by someone standing over her and holding her from behind. Holding her head under the water so she drowned.”

Both Turley and Manchester stared at the photo silently. Mike had sat back, a slight smile curling his lips, watching to see if either of the men on the opposite side of the table would even try to put up an argument. He waited just the right amount of time before asking softly, “So when did you two meet in St. Louis? Did you go to school together?”

When the lawyer and his client glanced at each other before looking at him, his smile got even wider and he chuckled. Very deliberately, he leaned forward again, lacing his fingers and laying both forearms on the table as he stared at their suspect. After a long, uncomfortable beat, he asked calmly, “Is there anything you want to tell us, Mr. Turley?”

Manchester, who was staring at the detective, looked at his client, who was still looking at the photos. “Ah, may I have a moment with my client?”

Smiling benevolently, Mike straightened up. “Sure. Take all the time you need.” He glanced at his partner, gathering him with a nod, then pointed at the photos. “We’ll just leave those there…”

As they left the room, Mike nodded at the uniformed officer outside the door then started towards his office. Neither said anything till they got to the coffee station. As Mike picked up a cup, he shot a surreptitious glance back towards the interrogation room. “Neither of them have moved.”

“That’s because we just nailed them to the wall,” Steve chuckled as he picked up a cup and held it out for Mike to fill. “How long do you want to give them?”

“We’ll let them make the next move,” Mike answered as he poured. “They’re not going anywhere and we have the arrest warrant ready to go, so…” He chuckled. “Let’s give the poor bereaved husband his last few minutes of freedom.” He returned the carafe to the burner. “Good work, Inspector,” he chuckled again, clinking his cup against Steve’s.

“You too.”

Taking well-earned sips, they entered the small office and sat. Mike put his cup on the desk and leaned forward, exhaling loudly. “Well, that was easier than I expected but I’m not complaining. We need a win. Now I just wish something would break on the homeless murders before another body turns up.”

“I know what you mean,” Steve agreed, sitting back and crossing his legs, resting the coffee cup against his knee. “So what do you want to do once the undercover teams are pulled?”

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Damned if I know. That’s something I’ll give some thought to this weekend, that’s for sure. But who knows, we’ve got three days left. Something might happen, right?” The naked, desperate optimism in his voice made the younger man smile. 

“Your lips…” he laughed.

“Yeah, right,” Mike snorted, smiling and shaking his head. 

# # # # #

It was well over a half hour later before Manchester left the interrogation room and approached the two detectives. And by the end of the day, Turley had been arrested, booked and on his way to lock-up. He would be arraigned in the morning, something Steve had to look forward to, he thought to himself as he escorted their newest felon to the holding cells. All in all, it had been a rewarding day.

# # # # #

Steve’s desk was empty the next morning; he was at the arraignment. Mike was going through some files when his phone rang. “Homicide, Stone.”

“Yeah, Lieutenant, it’s Colin Gray.” Gray was one of the undercovers. He was obviously calling from a phone booth; the traffic noise was loud and a siren could be heard in the distant background. It was hard to hear.

“Yeah, Colin, what is it?” Mike raised his voice.

“Sir, um, I think we may have a problem. I think my partner and I were made.”

“Made? Why do you think that?”

“Well, we’ve been very careful, like you said, but this morning, well, I think some of the women we’ve been following, well, I think they’re on to us.”


	63. Chapter 63

“So?” Mike asked as Steve came through the anteroom door just before 11. The older man was standing at the coffee station pouring a fresh cup.

Steve smiled as he crossed to his desk and shrugged out of his jacket, dropping it onto the back of his chair. He shrugged slightly as he joined his partner; the older man picked up an empty cup and held it out. Steve took it and waited for it Mike to pour. “Clockwork. Turley and his mouthpiece, or maybe I should say co-conspirator, didn’t put up a fight.”

“How did he plead?”

The younger man chuckled. “Not guilty, of course. I had a long talk with Gerry. He’s going to get their investigators to look into Manchester’s part in all this. If they can find a concrete connection to what happened, they’ll charge him but that could be a tough slog.”

Mike put the carafe back on the burner and started into his office. “Umh-humh.”

“Well, at least it’s not our problem anymore,” Steve sighed as he followed his partner, dropping into the guest chair and taking a sip of the strong hot coffee.

As Mike sank into his own chair, he raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’ve got some news.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I got a call from Colin Gray this morning. He and Chisholm got made by a few members of Brother Samuel’s distaff side.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

Mike nodded solemnly. “Yeah. Well, he’s not a hundred percent sure but enough to call me.”

“So what did you tell him?”

“I told him to pack it in and get outa there. We still have two teams for the weekend but…” He shrugged. 

“So what do you think that means?”

Mike sighed heavily and paused for a few long seconds. “I’ve been thinking about that. Them being caught out doesn’t mean that Brother Samuel and his… flock have anything to do with the homeless murders. It might just mean they keep a keen eye on the neighborhood and got suspicious when they saw these… strangers hanging around and just wanted to let them know they were being watched. It could be totally innocent.”

Steve made a face. “Yeah, that’s a point.”

“On the other hand…” Mike continued, “maybe it isn’t…” He chuckled and shrugged. “I don’t know. Anyway, I don’t want to have to think about it until Monday when we pull the other two teams and then we have to decide what we do next, if anything.” He finally took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t know about you, buddy boy, but I’m getting very frustrated with our lack of… progress.”

“I hear ya,” Steve chuckled, sipping his own coffee.

Mike raised his eyebrows. “Oh, ah, by the way, you’re off the hook about those school desks.”

“I was wondering about that. I thought Neil told you he was getting them this week?”

“Yeah, turns out he’s not getting as many as was promised… surprise, surprise… and the ones he is getting need some work. So that’s what I’m gonna help him with tomorrow.” He smiled. “Maybe I can get some of my frustration out by pounding nails.”

They both chuckled.

# # # # #

“Oh, Neil, I can’t begin to tell you how much these desk are going to help,” Carol gushed as she held the door open for the two men with their arms full.

Neil laughed as he led Mike to the centre of the classroom and they set the desk pieces on the floor. “It’s my pleasure,” he grinned as he straightened up, heading back to the door. “We’ve got the pieces for six desks here, but we gotta put them back together.”

“Mike, are you sure you should be carrying all that?” she asked worriedly, nodding at the cast.

He held his forearm up as he passed her on his way back out the door. “It’s almost completely healed. I get the cast off next week so I’m good, don’t worry.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.” 

It took them a few more trips to bring all the desk parts into the old bodega. They set the pieces out on the floor and tried to figure out what parts went where and what they had to do to reassemble the small wooden desks again. Having something else besides work to concentrate on was allowing Mike to relax a lot more than he realized.

# # # # #

Dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt under a brown leather jacket, Steve strolled into the bullpen. It was a very quiet Saturday morning with just one team of detectives and a uniformed sergeant present, and he sighed happily as he glanced into the empty office with his partner’s name stencilled in black on the glass door. He was going to get a lot done, he thought.

# # # # #

Mike and Neil were standing over the various piles of similar desk parts, both of them frowning. “Do you know what leg goes where, or does it matter?” Mike asked, staring at the pile of wooden legs.

The large black man shrugged. “I don’t really think it matters, do you?”

Mike shook his head and shrugged as well. “Nah, I think you’re right.” He chuckled. “Okay, should we get to work?”

“I’ve got two hammers and some nails,” Carol announced, coming forward with a small paper bag and the hammers in her hands. She passed them to Neil. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Neil said with a smile. “Thanks.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll be upstairs in the ‘office’,” she chuckled ironically. “We got a delivery of some used clothing I’m gonna go through to see what we can use and distribute. So if you need anything, just give me a shout.”

“Will do,” Neil laughed and both men watched her head towards the former storeroom. He turned to Mike with his eyebrows raised. “Well, let’s get to work.”

“You got it.”

# # # # # 

“Well, would you look at that,” Neil laughed as they both took a step back and examined the results of their handiwork. A small school desk, complete with inkwell, stood in front of them. 

“Well, I don’t think either of us would be able to sit at it… comfortably,” Mike chuckled, “but I think it looks great, if I do say so myself.”

“Oh my!” came Carol’s voice from the direction of the storeroom. “Look at that! That looks wonderful!” She crossed towards them quickly, slipping one arm through Neil’s and leaning into him as she reached out to take Mike’s right hand with her other. “Oh my goodness, I don’t know how to thank you two. The kids are just going to be thrilled.”

Both men chuckled self-consciously. “Well, I’m just glad we can be of service,” Neil said softly, though he did looked pleased with himself. 

“And we still have five more desks to finish,” Mike reminded her with a grin. “We can’t let this early success go to our heads.”

“Oh you,” she laughed, squeezing his hand. “The world needs more people like you two.”

# # # # #

Steve finished typing the report and ripped it out of the typewriter. He arched his back, stretching his stiff muscles, and dropped the report on the pile on the desk. He glanced at his watch. It was later than he thought but he was getting more done than he’d hoped. ‘Might as well stay for a bit longer and get more done,’ he thought to himself as he reached for another file folder and flipped it open.

# # # # #

“So, ah, so what happened with that investigation you were doing into Brother Samuel?” Neil asked as he bit into his sandwich.

They had assembled three desks so far and decided to take a break for a late lunch. Mike had sprung for a couple of club sandwiches from a nearby diner and they were sitting on the floor in the classroom, washing them down with sodas.

Mike swallowed then took a sip of his ginger ale. “Well, it wasn’t really an investigation. We just wanted to find out a little more about him, that’s all. Neighborhood policing.” He was trying to be as vague as possible without sounding evasive.

Neil picked up his Coke to take a sip then stopped, giving the cop the side eye. “So is that why you had those undercover guys doing surveillance?” he asked with a slight smile then brought the can to his lips.

The detective, who was chewing, froze, his eyes snapping to the other man. He finished chewing and swallowed. “You know about that?”

Neil sagged slightly, staring into the suddenly intense blue eyes. “Mike, I was an army man for years, you know that. You don’t spend several tours in a combat zone without being aware of your surroundings at all times, in uniform or not.”

Mike stared at him for a long beat. “Do you think anybody else knows?”

The vet shrugged. “I didn’t tell anybody… but I don’t know about that, I truly don’t.” When the detective’s brow furrowed even more, he continued, “Hey, they were good, believe me. They weren’t obvious. I’ve just been around the block a few more times than most people, that’s all.”

Mike nodded, looking down, weighing how much he could divulge. “I got a call from one of the teams last night. He said they were made - by Brother Samuel’s women.”

Neil chuckled, taking another sip of Coke. “Yeah, those ladies don’t miss a trick. They’re just protecting the neighborhood. And they’re real good at that.”

“Protecting it from what?”

Neil looked at him and smiled enigmatically. “Outsiders.”

The detective nodded. 

The army vet stared at him, his brow furrowing. “The, ah, the murders of those homeless guys…. You haven’t gotten anywhere with that, have you?”

After a beat, Mike shook his head slowly.

“And you think Brother Samuel and his women might have something to do with them?”

After a beat, Mike shrugged slightly. “I used to think that… but now I don’t know.”

Neil stared at him for several long beats. “Well, if my word holds any weight, I think you’re way off base on this one, Mike. I really do.”

The detective stared back then he nodded slowly. “You might be right.” He took another bite of his sandwich as an uncomfortable silence settled over them.

“How are you two doing?” Carol’s voice cut though the quiet and they both jumped slightly. She was bustling towards them from the storeroom. She stopped when she saw the three finished desks. “Oh my goodness, you really are just motoring along, aren’t you?”

They both chuckled. 

“Do you think you’re going to get them all done today?”

Mike glanced at his watch. It was mid-afternoon. “Probably not. But I can come back tomorrow.” He looked at Neil. “You?”

The other man looked at him through widened eyes. “No, I have a meeting with the mayor at City Hall,” he said slowly, his voice dripping sarcasm. After a beat, all three started laughing. “Of course I can come back tomorrow.”

“Great,” Carol chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “I just have to step out for few minutes. Are you guys gonna be okay here alone?”

The men looked at each other. “I think we can handle any intruders,” Neil said with feigned seriousness and she laughed as Mike chuckled.

“Oh you…” She swatted his shoulder as she stepped past him towards the door.

They watched her go, laughing.

# # # # #

Steve got up, pulling his leather jacket off the back of his chair as he started towards the exit. He had just stepped into the anteroom when the outside door opened and a young uniformed officer stepped into the room, stopping abruptly when he almost bumped into the detective.

“Oh, ah, Inspector Keller, this just came in for the Lieutenant.” He held up a thick inter-office manila envelope. “Can I give it to you?”

Steve looked at the package and nodded. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He took it.

The officer nodded and backed out the door, letting it close behind him. Throwing his jacket over his shoulder, Steve opened the string-and-button clasp and slid a thick manila envelope out. A label on the front in black marker read: ‘FBI Background Check - Benjamin Sykes’. 

He put the second envelope back into the first and, stuffing it under his arm, opened the Homicide office door and headed home.


	64. Chapter 64

The banging of hammer hitting nail echoed loudly off the walls of the classroom, and Neil glanced across at his still overly enthusiastic co-worker. When Mike stopped and sat back to examine his handiwork, the army vet laughed. “You sure seem to be getting a lot of frustration out on that poor piece of wood,” he observed with a gentle chuckle.

Mike shot him an almost angry look that quickly turned into an amused grin. “Is it that obvious? I thought I’d managed to hide it by now.” 

“Well, your hammering is slowing down but it’s not getting any less… powerful.”

Mike nodded. “Yeah… it’s been a frustrating few weeks.”

“I can imagine.” 

The cop reached for the bag of nails, frowning when he picked it up. He looked in it, his frown deepening, then turned it upside down. A half dozen nails fell out onto the linoleum floor. “That’s not going to be enough.”

Neil looked at them and frowned as well. “You’re right.” They were working on the fourth desk, wanting to get it done before they called it a day; when they started, the desk parts were in pretty good shape. As they had gone along, the tops had needed some work and several legs needed repairing. It was starting to take a lot longer and it was now getting close to dinnertime, and the restaurant next door was going to cut off their electricity within the hour.

“We’re definitely not going to have enough nails to finish the rest of the desks tomorrow,” Mike sighed. 

“Yeah. We better get ‘em now ‘cause nothing’s going to be open tomorrow.”

“Jeez, you’re right. Do you know any place around here that sells nails?”

Neil thought about it for few seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. There’s a small mom & pop store, a five-and-dime, about six blocks from here. I’m pretty sure they sell nails. I’ll go get some.”

They both got to their feet, Mike reaching into his pants pockets and taking out his wallet. He extracted a few bills and held them out. “Here.”

Neil looked at the money and waved it away. “Naw, I got this.”“Neil,” Mike riveted him with a stare, “I make a hell of a lot more money than you do.”

After a second, the black man smiled and, shaking his head, took the cash. “Thanks.” He started for the front door.

“Get more than you think we’ll need,” Mike called after him. “If we eventually get those other desk parts, we’re gonna need ‘em.”

“You got it!”

When Neil shut the bodega door, Mike looked down at the parts they still had to assemble. “And we’re gonna need chairs too,” he muttered to himself.

# # # # #

Steve swung the LTD to the curb and got out, grabbing the large envelope sitting on the passenger seat. He took the time to look out over the Bay towards Oakland; the wind was starting to change direction and he could feel the air rapidly beginning to cool. He had a feeling the fog would be creeping in under the Golden Gate tonight; he’d have to check the weather on the radio when he got in.

He couldn’t resist a long loving look at his beloved Porsche as he climbed the hill to his apartment. Lately he hadn’t had the time to drive it much. He hoped to remedy that soon; maybe next weekend he could take Jennifer to Tahoe or down to Monterey for a change of scene.

He tossed the envelope on the coffee table, his jacket on the sofa before heading straight for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and stared inside; other than a few beers, some condiments and a couple of boxes of three-day-old Chinese food, there was nothing. With a sigh, he grabbed a beer and retraced his steps back into the living room. He popped the top on the beer can as he dropped heavily onto the sofa and picked up the phone, putting it on his lap. 

He took a long draught from the can, set it on the coffee table then dialled a number he knew by heart. “Hey, Mario, it’s Steve Keller…. Yeah, yeah, no date tonight unfortunately. Listen, ah, can I get the usual?…. Yeah, thanks, that’d be great.” He glanced at his watch. “Yeah, I know, it’s a busy time. An hour would be great. Thanks…. You too.” He hung up and sat there for a long second, then picked up the receiver again and dialled.

“Phil?... Yeah, yeah, it’s me…. I know, long time, no hear…. Yeah. Listen, uh, I have a rare Saturday night free, and my girl is out of town… any chance you can join me for a beer later tonight, you know, do some catching up?… Oh yeah, I forgot about the baby…. How is he? Right, her. Sorry…. Oh, that’s great, that really is…. Ah yeah, I can hear the crying in the background. Say hi to Cath for me… Thanks… Ah, yeah, well, ah, that’s okay, maybe some time when she’s a little older, right?…. Yeah… Well, you guys have a great night… Get some sleep!… Yeah… Okay, yeah… Good night.”

He hung up again, exhaling loudly. He stared straight ahead for several long seconds, the phone still on his knee. His eyes wandered to the envelope then, after a beat, he picked up the receiver and dialled again. As he waited for his partner to answer, he grabbed the beer and took another sip. When Jeannie’s voice on the answering machine cut in, he pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. He knew Mike was spending the day at the school but he thought he would’ve been home by now. With a surprised “Humh!” he put the receiver on the cradle.

# # # # #

Mike finished with the remaining nails then looked around the classroom. The desks were definitely going to be a big hit with the kids; he was almost wishing he could be there when they arrived on Monday morning. He sighed. Carol hadn’t returned from wherever she’d gone, and there was nothing for him to do until Neil came back with, hopefully, more nails.

“I wonder if she has any more upstairs,” he mumbled to himself as he put the hammer down and climbed to his feet. He crossed through the storeroom and started up the stairs to the second floor. The light was almost non-existent and he took his time getting to the second floor, not wanting to trip over something he couldn’t see. Surprisingly, all the doors in the apartment were open and there was enough light coming in through the uncovered windows that he could see reasonably well.

He checked the cupboards in the kitchen first; it was the only room he had been in already. Finding nothing, he crossed the corridor to the first empty bedroom. There was an old sofa in it, and on it was strewn a large pile of clothes, most likely the ones Carol had mentioned earlier. They looked to be in decent shape, always a bonus, he knew. 

Smiling to himself, he continued down the corridor to the other bedroom. This one had a desk and chair and looked very much like the ‘office’ Carol had mentioned jokingly. There was a large shelving unit against the far wall. It was filled with cardboard boxes and small stacks of the school supplies that Neil had been able to procure. It was beginning to look like the storage room for any typical school, and his smile got a little wider. They were doing good work here, he knew, and it made his heart soar. He could hardly wait to get home and give Jeannie a call. She would be over the moon to know what she had started.

He checked the shelves but could find no nails. He crossed to the desk then paused. He knew how perturbed he would be if someone rifled through his desk, no matter how pure their intention. He hesitated, then bent down and opened the large bottom drawer on the right, telling himself that if there was a stash of nails anywhere in the desk, that’s the drawer they would be in.

There was nothing but a couple of pads of paper and a three-hole punch. He closed the drawer and straightened up, looking around the room again.

The closet door was open and he could see a few sweaters and coats on hangers and some cardboard boxes on the top shelf and the floor. He circled the desk and moved closer, his eyes scanning the top shelf for a small paper bag or cardboard box that just might contain nails. But there was nothing. His gaze dropped to the floor, but there was only a couple of shoeboxes and an old pair of ladies sneakers.

He was just about to turn away when he spotted something leaning against the back corner behind one of the long coats. He pushed the clothing out of the way.

It was a baseball bat.

His heart skipped a beat. Breathing slowly and evenly through his open mouth, he reached into his pants pocket and removed the handkerchief. He snapped it open and, covering his right hand, carefully grabbed the knob at the top to the bat and picked it up. He took a couple of steps back into the room for better light and held it up so he could see the barrel. It was definitely an old bat, and it was hard to tell in the dim light if there was anything foreign on the pockmarked wood.

Gingerly he put it back, making sure it was in exactly the same position it was when he found it. He re-adjusted the hanging clothes then slowly backed out of the closet.

He heard a faint noise behind him and turned to his left, but not in time. He managed to raise his arm as something fast and heavy smashed into the cast, delivering a glancing blow before connecting with the side of his head. He was unconscious before his body hit the floor.

# # # # #

A small paper bag in hand, Neil closed the bodega door and crossed to the half-finished desk, looking around the empty room. “Mike!”

Carol came out from the storeroom, smiling. “He’s gone.”

Neil frowned. “What?”

She nodded. “Just after you left, he said he had to make a phone call and when he got back he said they’d gotten a call and he had to go into work.” She shrugged.

“Oh… okay. Did he say if he’d be able to come back tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “No, sorry. He didn’t say. But it sounded serious so probably not.”

“Damn. Oh well, I guess I can finish these on my own.”

Carol smiled. “Oh, that’s great. Ah, listen, Neil, it’s getting late and I’ve gotta lock up here and get home to make dinner.”

“Oh, right, of course. Well, I guess I’ve done enough for the day too.” He set the paper bag on one of the finished desks then offered Carol his arm. “Can I escort you to the door, Miss Stayner?”

Laughing warmly, she threaded her arm through his. ”Why yes you can, sir.”

# # # # #

Steve closed the lid on the empty pizza box and picked up the beer can. He leaned back on the sofa, put his feet on the coffee table and dropped the FBI file on his lap. He had been slowly working his way through it, mentally making notes of things he wanted to call to Mike’s attention.

Most of the things he was learning was stuff they were already aware of and so far nothing set of any alarms. He turned another page; it was a list of Benjamin Sykes extended family ties. He started to scan the names; nothing stood out. He leaned forward slightly to put the beer can on the coffee table when he suddenly froze, his eyes widening in alarm.

He stared at the page, reading it again and again to be sure he wasn’t seeing it wrong. ‘Sister: Carol Elizabeth, born May 4, 1932; married June 11, 1953 to John Mark Stayner; divorced November 16, 1965.’

Steve took a violent breath, snapping himself out of his stupor. “Carol Stayner…” He sat up quickly, slamming the can down and throwing the file onto the coffee table as he grabbed the phone and dragged it onto his lap. Yanking the receiver off the cradle, he started to frantically dial, blood pounding so loudly in his ears he could barely hear. “Come on, Mike, answer the phone…”


	65. Chapter 65

When the answering machine cut in once again, Steve slammed the receiver on the cradle and almost threw the phone on the coffee table as he shot to his feet. He pounded upstairs to his bedroom, tossing clothes out of the middle drawer of his dresser as he grabbed a fleece sweatshirt, slipping it on over his t-shirt as he jogged downstairs again. He stepped into his shoes, grabbed his keys, his gun and his jacket and shot out the door, barely taking the time to lock it after him. 

He cast a quick glance at the Porsche as he sprinted to the LTD. It was wiser to take the cop car in case he needed to use the cherry in an emergency. The tires squealed as he pulled a tight three-point turn on the narrow street and shot up towards Montgomery, rolling left through the stop sign and heading south.

Traffic was moderate for a Saturday night, but the thick tendrils of fog were definitely starting to roll in and the air had gotten considerably cooler. It was going to be a cold damp night in The City by the Bay.

He glanced down at the police radio, debating whether he should call for back-up. But, right off the top, there were two reasons he could think of not to; A - he wasn’t sure if Mike was still at the school in the first place, and B - he knew where it was but he wasn’t sure of the street address. If he showed up, lights and sirens and with tons of back-up and it turned out to be a false alarm, not only would his partner be out of sorts, but it might also jeopardize their undercover teams. And even though they only had about twenty-four more hours of surveillance time left, a lot could still happen.

So, until he was definitely aware that things were worse that he thought, he would try to track Mike down on his own. He only hoped he was making the right decision.

# # # # #

Jake Watson was stretched out in the back seat of the beat-up Charger, a grubby and battered straw hat pulled low over his eyes, his cowboy-booted feet on the back of the front seat. He looked for all the world like he was asleep, but he was actually staring at the front door of the Steiner house.

Things had been quiet for most of the day. A few of the women had ventured out earlier to do a bit of shopping; his partner had trailed them but nothing had come of it, as usual. Brother Samuel hadn’t been seen for two days but that, again, wasn’t unusual. 

He was trying not to fall asleep. Since Gray and Chisholm had been pulled, the remaining four now had longer shifts to make up for the absence but with only two days left, it wasn’t all bad. They would have ample downtime when this little venture was completed.

Suddenly something caught his peripheral attention and he opened his eyes a little wider. An older woman with longish dark gray hair, wearing a beige cardigan and slacks, was half-walking, half-jogging up Steiner in the direction of the house. She was looking down and frowning and something about her demeanour put every one of his cop instincts on full alert.

Without missing a beat, she slowed slightly then jogged up the front steps of Brother Samuel’s temple and, without hesitation and without knocking, opened the door and let herself in. 

Watson sat up a bit more. He had never seen her before, he was sure of that, and in the two weeks they had kept the house under surveillance, no one not dressed like an 18th century schoolmarm had ever entered the house by the front door, especially not someone in such obvious distress.

Something was going on.

# # # # #

The fog hadn’t reached the Haight yet, but it was coming. The mournful two-tone call of the Point Bonita lighthouse always sent an eerie chill up his spine, and it seemed especially disturbing tonight. He drove slowly down the street, passing the boarded-up bodega. The door was closed and the place looked deserted.

He knew the ‘borrowed’ electricity would usually be cut off by now but on the off-chance that the restaurant owner had known Mike and Neil were working on desks for the kids, it might have been left on a little longer. 

He found a place to park further down the street and, acutely aware of everything going on around him, walked the two blocks back to the bodega. He tried the door; it was locked and through the small gap in the paper that covered the glass doors, he could see it was pitch black inside.

He took a step back, frowning. Maybe Mike had just taken Neil out to dinner when they had finished. He looked up and down the block for a payphone, wanting to call the Stone house again. He knew one had to be nearby; Mike would know where, he chuckled to himself.

There was a young couple walking arm in arm towards him and he asked them if they knew of a nearby phone. They directed him around the corner and two blocks down.

As he headed down the street, he reached into his pants pocket, hoping for a dime. He slowed, looking through the change in his palm for the right coin, when he almost slid to a stop. Mike’s car was parked at the curb.

He stared at it for a long beat, then started to look up and down the street. There weren’t too many restaurants open in this part of town; things in the The City had been tense, politics-wise, and some concerned restauranteurs in certain neighbourhoods had refused to stay open on Saturday nights until they could be guaranteed a regular police presence.

Both he and Mike had tried to stay out of the politics but he could see both sides of the argument. 

He looked at the car again and sighed. His gut was telling him something was wrong but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He could see a small restaurant across the street that was still open and, after waiting for a break in the traffic, jogged over. He stood in the doorway and scanned the small dining room, shaking his head with an apologetic smile at the waiter, who had gestured at an open table, before returning to the sidewalk.

He quickly checked out four other restaurants in the immediate neighbourhood; Mike was in none of them. He returned to his partner’s car, debating what to do. He stood on the sidewalk near the blue sedan, slowly looking up and down the street as if for inspiration. With a loud, worried sigh, he strode back around the corner to the bodega, trying the door again, even though he knew it was a futile gesture.

He took a few steps back and looked at the front of the two storey building. There was no other discernible way to get in, from what he could see. Making up his mind, he strode around the corner again, past Mike’s car, looking for the alley entrance. There had to be a delivery area somewhere at the back of the former store; maybe there was another way he could force his way in.

# # # # #

Jake Watson took his feet off the back of the driver’s seat and sat up, reaching behind himself for the door handle and opening the back door. He climbed out languidly and slammed the door, then leaned against the rear fender and dug a pack of Marlboros and a BIC lighter out of his shirt pocket. He pulled a cigarette out and stuck it between his lips, stuffed the pack back in his shirt and, cupping his hand around his mouth against the increasingly strong and damp breeze blowing down the street, thumbed the flickwheel on the bright red BIC and lit the cigarette.

He was just about to put the lighter in his pocket when a tall, lanky black man with a frizzy afro, muttonchops and a dark brown leather jacket with long fringes stepped in front of him. “Hey man, can I have one a those?”

Watson looked up at him sourly and didn’t move.

The panhandler smiled as he held out his hand. “Aw, come on, man, you got a full pack there, I seen it…”

Dropping his stare with a heavy sigh, Watson reached into his pocket and took the pack out. He tapped a cigarette out and handed it over. The other man took it with a happy chuckle then stared at him again. When Watson didn’t respond, he raised his eyebrows, held the cigarette up and shrugged. With another put-upon sigh, the white man with the short, dark beard and cowboy hat held out the lighter and flicked it on.

After his smoke was lit, the second man nodded his thanks, turning to lean against the side of the car, exhaling smoke through his nose as he enjoyed the first puff. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it,” Watson nodded as he put the lighter in his pocket and took a drag of his own cigarette.

Jake Watson and Alex Kendall had been partners for three years, and could read each other like books.

“Did you see her?” Watson asked softly.

Kendall took another drag on the cigarette, raising his chin to blow smoke rings that disappeared immediately in the cool breeze. He nodded once. “Umh-humh.”

Watson looked down and flicked ash onto the sidewalk. “What do you think’s going on?”

“I don’t know but I think we oughta be prepared to move fast when it does.”“I agree.” 

Kendall pushed himself away from the car. “Hey, ah, thanks again, man.” He held up the cigarette and smiled, then drifted down the street.

# # # # #

It didn’t take long to find the alley but navigating it was proving to be more of a chore than he had anticipated. Almost all the homes and businesses that lined the single lane alley were dark; those that were occupied exuded very little light. The occasional bulb above a back door was 40-watts at best and cast very little glow beyond a small yellow circle directly below.

He was kicking himself that he hadn’t clocked how many buildings the bodega was from the corner but then he remembered the restaurant next door and hoped to find that to use as his touchstone. About halfway down the alley on the left the name ‘Gino’s’ was painted in green, white and red on a back door, and Steve couldn’t suppress a relieved smile. The rear of the bodega was very dark; there were a couple of aluminum garbage cans near the back door, which was metal, solid and locked. 

He looked up. There was a very large window in what he assumed was the living room, from what little he remembered from his and Mike’s brief visit to the second floor. But the large picture window in the centre was bookended by two smaller ones that obviously opened. He wondered if they were locked.

He studied the wall of the two-storey building with the flat roof, but there was nothing he could see that he could use to gain access to the second floor. With a frustrated sigh, he continued down the alley, looking for something, anything, that he could stack up against the wall to climb.

He was almost down to the far end of the alley when he spotted it. Lying down against the side of a building he assumed was a store of some kind was an old wooden extension ladder. His eyes widened; he couldn’t believe his luck.

He took a step towards it and stopped, reaching to touch his back right pocket, sighing quickly in relief when he felt the case holding his badge and I.D. If he was caught stealing or trespassing, he would need it.

He made sure the ladder was free and clear of anything that would cause a racket when it was moved. Then, crouching and grabbing it in the middle, hoping it wasn’t so heavy that it would hurt his back, he held his breath, closed his eyes, tightened his grip and straightened his legs. Surprisingly, it was lighter than he had anticipated. 

Maneuvering it carefully to the centre of the alley, trying to avoid hitting anything and thereby giving himself away, he slowly and quietly marched back towards the bodega.


	66. Chapter 66

He maneuvered the ladder to the back of the bodega without incident, grateful that no one happened to look out a back window at an inopportune time. He was far enough away from the street, and there was enough traffic going by, that he wasn’t particularly visible and his footsteps were muffled.

He put the ladder down and caught his breath, temporarily rapid and shallow from exertion and anxiety, and looked up at the second storey windows again. His heart started to pound, from fear this time, and he tried not to think of what he might find in there. If he found nothing, he wasn’t sure if he would be relieved or not.

He was just about to try to lift the ladder into place when he realized he had forgotten to get the flashlight out of the glove box. Cursing to himself, he leaned the ladder lengthwise against the wall and started at a half-jog up the alley towards the street, hoping that no one would notice him emerge from the shadows. 

He paused at the end of the alley, staying in the shadows, straining to see if there was a break in the foot traffic so he could step out without being noticed. It took a little over a minute but he finally saw his chance, and he started at a brisk pace back to the LTD.

# # # # #Kendall had wandered nonchalantly around the corner, taking long, satisfying drags of his cigarette, till he was in position to see the alley at the back of the Steiner house. It was a place he had frequented a number of times in the last two weeks, so his presence there wouldn’t raise any immediate flags. A couple of the locals whom he had struck up an acquaintanceship with wandered over and asked him for a cigarette. As he laughingly explained where he had bummed his, he kept his eye on the alley.

# # # # #

Steve opened the passenger side door and leaned in, unlocking the glove box and rooting around for the flashlight. As he shut the small door and locked it again, he glanced down at the radio. The urge to call in was strong but so was his desire not to cause a fuss if none was warranted. 

Besides, if the place was empty, his little B&E might go completely unnoticed and he would never have to mention it to anybody, including his partner. 

He was just about to close the door when he stopped and, exhaling in frustration, dropped onto the seat and picked up the mic. He thumbed the Talk button. “Inspectors 8-1 to Dispatch.”

“Go ahead, 8-1.”

“Yeah, ah, listen, this is Inspector Keller. I need you to make a landline call for me. Lieutenant Stone.” He gave them the number. “If he answers, can you tell him to meet me at 850. I’ll wait.”

“10-4, 8-1.”

In the silence, Steve watched the crowd of mostly young people of all shapes, sizes, colours and dress streaming by. The air was getting colder and the foghorn louder but the happy crowd didn’t seem to notice.

“Inspector Keller?” 

Steve jumped slightly, bringing the mic to his mouth and pressing the Talk button again. “Yeah.”

“There’s no answer at Lieutenant Stone’s.”

Disappointed, he tapped his knuckles against his upper lip before replying. “Okay, thanks.” He released the button and hung the mic up. He headed back to the alley, walking with his hands in his jacket pockets and his head down, his brow furrowed with worry.

# # # # #

Kendall looked up, trying to make the move look natural. He thought he had seen a flicker of movement in the very dark alley behind the Steiner house. His companions, in search of their own smokes, had drifted off and he was blissfully alone. 

He had looked around to be sure he wasn’t been watched before reaching into his fringed jacket pocket and pulling out his own pack of cigarettes. He hated Marlboros; he preferred Kents and he chuckled as he took one out and stuck it between his lips. He was just about to light it when he spotted the movement in the alley again.

Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be coming in his direction. He turned his back, ostensibly to block the flame of his lighter from the wind, but also to hide his face, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed.

Peripherally, he saw the women they had spotted earlier charge out of the alley onto the sidewalk. Though she was now wearing a camel-coloured car coat over the cardigan, he knew it was her. She stepped onto the sidewalk and made an immediate left turn, heading east and away from him. 

A split second later, a man stepped out of the shadows right behind her. He was wearing a peacoat and a black watchman’s cap, but Kendall knew immediately it was Brother Samuel. His heart started to pound and his hand shake.

As the pair headed down McAllister, he sprinted up the street and around the corner, looking for his partner among the locals and out-of-towners enjoying a crisp and cool San Franciscan night. He ran up the Charger; Watson was in the back-seat, in the dark, staring at the Steiner house.

Kendall rapped on the window and gestured frantically. Watson scrambled out of the car, just in time to see his partner rounding the corner on McAllister and he gave chase, no longer worried about blowing his cover. Something was definitely happening; he just wished he knew what it was.

# # # # #

Steve made it back to the rear of the bodega without incident, the flashlight comfortingly in his pocket. Checking to make sure he was still alone, he carefully lifted the top end of the wooden extension ladder and walked it to a standing position, then leaned it as quietly as he could against the wall. It was still several feet short of the window and he grabbed the rope to extend the fly section. He tried to do it slowly so the run lock didn’t make too much noise; it turned out to be easier said than done.

Every time the rung lock clicked, he froze, waiting for someone to discover his presence. But it didn’t happen and he finally got the extension high enough to reach the window comfortably.

He pulled the foot of the ladder out from the wall far enough for stability then stared at it. Though he was good with heights, he really wished there was someone footing it for him. Falling off a ladder wouldn’t put him in Mike’s good books, should this turn out to be an act of sheer folly instead of a timely rescue.

He looked around for something heavy but manageable and spotted a cinder block near ‘Gino’s’ back entrance, no doubt used to keep the door open when needed. He brought it over, putting it against one of the ladder legs in the hopes it would add a modicum of stability. Then, with an unsteady sigh, he started to climb.

# # # # #

Watson caught sight of his partner jogging down McAllister when he rounded the corner. He sprinted as fast and as quietly as he could, trying to run on his toes to keep his cowboy boots from making his presence known. But he was a good runner and he caught up fairly quickly just as Kendall, now just walking swiftly, turned onto Fillmore, heading south. 

Kendall glanced over but didn’t say anything. Instead he thrust his chin out and Watson looked down the street in front of them. Other than groups of young people enjoying a night on the town, and locals enjoying the crisp night air, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary at first.

Then he noticed them, two people moving swiftly away from them, slightly apart, working their way through the crowds with a destination obviously and urgently in mind. As the pair passed under a streetlight, Watson’s head went back slightly and he looked at his partner. “Samuel?” he asked sotto voce.

Kendall, not taking his eyes off their prey, nodded.

Watson looked forward again. “What the hell…?”

# # # # #

Steve climbed up three rungs of the ladder and stopped. He bounced on it slightly, feeling it bow and straighten underneath him but it stayed put and, though it seemed rickety, was proving to be sturdier than it looked. Buoyed, he started to climb higher, moving slowly so as to minimize any noise. He gradually reached the small window to the right of the large one. He could see the sash lock but couldn’t tell if it was closed or not and he didn’t want to use the flashlight just yet.

The bottom of the sash and the sill was covered with chips of peeling paint and he brushed the bigger ones away before he leaned against the edge. He reached up and put his fingertips under the lip of the top rail and pushed. The sash started to move. Heartened, he held his breath and pushed harder and, very slowly and with just a little noise, the sash began to move higher. 

He dropped his hands under the bottom rail and pushed up and the window opened about halfway. He stopped, figuring there was now enough room for him to get under it. He brushed more of the dried paint shards and wooden splinters off the sill then paused. After a second, he nodded to himself then, very carefully leaning back and keeping his balance, took off his leather jacket and stuffed it through the window, not wanting to damage it trying to struggle through the window. He held onto it as long as he could before dropping it the short distance to the floor; the flashlight was in the pocket.

It hit the wooden floor with a faint ‘whomp’ and he froze, listening, then chuckled to himself; if someone was around to hear the coat hitting the floor, they would have definitely heard the window being opened. 

The top of the ladder was close to the windowsill and he moved up so that his hips were almost level with the sill, his feet on the second rung from the top. Still moving slowly and carefully, he ducked and stuck his head through the opening, pausing briefly to listen for any sign of activity. 

An unnatural silence was all he heard so, taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and wiggled over the sill. The window was too small to do anything other than go through head first, and he was glad he had tossed his jacket in when he put both hands on it and slowly pulled his legs through, dropping them as quietly to the floor as he was able. He froze again, listening once more, and was rewarded again with an eerie silence; there wasn’t even the normal, almost subliminal hum of electricity.

He picked up the jacket and shrugged into it, then took the flashlight out of the pocket and thumbed it on. He kept the beam on the floor, hoping the bounce of light onto the walls wouldn’t be seen. He was definitely in a living room. It was large but sparsely furnished with an old wooden table pushed into one corner, a couple of metal and vinyl kitchen chairs and a dirty paisley sofa. There was a large blue tarpaulin folded up and stuffed between the sofa and the wall; the sight of it sent shivers down Steve’s back. He had seen too many bodies wrapped in blue tarpaulin.

He moved out of the living room into the hallway, shining the light into the bathroom on the right. There was no shower curtain, and nothing in the tub. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom-turned-office and shone the light over the desk and the shelving units. The door to the closet was closed and he could see a lock on a hasp just above the door knob. He frowned, knowing he would have to come back for a closer look.

He had just moved to the entrance of the second bedroom and was playing the beam over the old sofa when he heard the sound of metal on metal from the first floor and he froze. Someone was coming in.


	67. Chapter 67

The metallic sound repeated itself, followed by silence. He was sure it was the front door of the store-turned-schoolhouse, and he wondered who else but Carol Stayner would have access. He remembered seeing a large hasp, not unlike the one on the closet door in the ‘office’, that had been spot-welded to the front door, and realized, somewhat belatedly, that of course they wouldn’t have keys to the actual door. They had no legal right to the property.

Holding his breath, he strained to hear more, hoping without conviction that he had been mistaken and the sound had come from somewhere else. When he heard another noise, part thud, part footfall, he knew he wasn’t wrong; his heart began to pound. He snapped the flashlight off and stared at top of the staircase. The murmur of voices suddenly reached his ears and he thought he could see the faint glow of a powerful flashlight, bouncing slightly and growing brighter as someone mounted the stairs. Voices meant more than one person had arrived; this was not good.

Instinctively, he reached for his left hip and touched the grip of the .38, reassuring himself that, in his rush to leave the house, he had remembered to bring it. He had to hide, and he had to do it fast, but his options were very limited at the moment. He was standing in the hallway between the entrances to the kitchen and the first bedroom; other than the old sofa, there was nothing to hide behind in the bedroom and the only refuge the kitchen offered was the lower cupboards, but that would be too noisy and probably one of the first places they would look.

Moving quickly but silently, he took the few long steps to the office, holding his breath as he snapped on the flashlight for a beat to reacquaint himself with the layout. He briefly considered hiding in the well of the desk but realized the office might be where they were heading.

He stepped quickly but silently back into the hallway and retraced his steps to the first bedroom. The door was half-open and he slipped behind it, flattening himself against the wall and hoping in the non-existent light he wouldn’t be discovered, at least not right away. He closed his eyes and started to breathe soundlessly through his mouth, trying to slow his pounding heart, trying to concentrate on the approaching menace.

The murmur of the voices came closer, and through the gap in the door he could see the first very faint glow from the flashlight beams bouncing along the floor as the strangers reached the top of the stairs.

“But I don’t want to kill him,” was the first coherent thing he heard. His blood turned cold. He recognized Carol Stayner’s voice, but instead of the laughter and joy he remembered, she sounded heartsick and scared. 

“Well, you didn’t leave us much choice now, did you?” The second voice was male, deep and angry. And Steve knew instinctively it was Brother Samuel.

“I’m sorry, but I told you, I panicked. He found the baseball bat.”

“Well, why the hell was the closet open in the first place?” They were coming closer.

“I told you, I was working and I opened it to put one of the cardigans on. I was cold.”

“So why didn’t you close and lock it when you left?”

“I never thought he would come up here. He was probably just looking for nails.” Her voice had taken on a melancholic tone and it actually cracked with emotion. 

There was a brief pause; they were standing in the hallway, barely six feet away from him, and he held his breath.

“I like him, Ben. He’s a very nice man…”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you hit him,” Brother Samuel said matter-of-factly. “He’s a cop, and I doubt he’s stupid. We don’t have a choice.” There was a tense pause. “You know that, right?”

All the blood drained from Steve’s face and bit his lip as his entire body began to shake. He heard Carol’s soft sob then her quiet, “Yes, I know.”

There was a rustle of clothing, and a soft moan, and Steve knew the siblings were sharing a hug. Then the deep voice said softly, “You know what to do.”

He heard Carol exhale loudly then one of them started to move away. When Carol’s spoke again, her voice was slightly further away, like she was moving towards the living room. “It’s cold in here,” she said almost idly then caught her breath.

Steve closed his eyes and froze; he had left the window open. He held his breath and waited, knowing what was coming next. 

“Ben…” he heard her call almost breathlessly.

Brother Samuel, who had obviously moved into the office, stepped back into the hallway. “What?”

“Ben, come in here.” Carol’s voice sounded scared and far away, like things were becoming more and more out of her control.

“What is it?” he growled as he stomped down the hallway and Steve strained to hear what was going on. 

A long silence followed, and Steve could feel his heart pounding again. He could envisage Benjamin Sykes, more than likely a murderous street priest, staring at the open window, then looking out and finding the ladder, and knowing someone was in the building. His left hand snaked back to the grip of his Smith & Wesson, and he touched it like a talisman once more, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it but knowing he would, if only as a last resort.


	68. Chapter 68

The silence emanating from the living room was unnerving. He knew Sykes had seen the ladder and was probably trying to figure out who had broken in and where they were. He was no doubt mouthing instructions to his sister about what he wanted her to do.

He strained to hear any kind of sound to tell him what was going on, but he couldn’t hear a sound. Even more terrifying was the knowledge that Mike was somewhere in the building, and that he had been incapacitated. He had been hit at least once, as Sykes had confirmed, and if Carol had immobilized him somehow, then he must surely have been unconscious or badly hurt, or she never would have gotten the upper hand.

There was only one place on this floor that had a lock, he knew; he had to get to the office closet and he had to do it soon. But he also knew he had to get through two people who wouldn’t be the least bit reluctant to kill him to stop him. They had killed before, and were preparing to do so again. And only he could stop them.

There was a creak of a floorboard. It was from down the hall near the living room. They had obviously checked that sparsely furnished room thoroughly and found it empty and were beginning to work their way towards him.

He was close to the stairs to the first floor, he knew, but he couldn’t take the chance of ducking out into the hallway and starting down. They would hear him for sure, and give chase, and even though he was armed with a flashlight as well, they knew the building a lot better than he did and he really wouldn’t stand a chance. And though he had his gun, he really didn’t want to have to use it.

His only hope was that they didn’t find him immediately; but that was a hope he knew was pointless. He was outnumbered and cornered… and had very few options. He slowly reached to his left hip and silently unsnapped his revolver.

There was another wooden creak, this one closer, and his heart trip-hammered in his chest. They were at the office door, and he could sense one of them enter the small room. After a lengthy pause there was another squeak from the old wooden floor and a soft footfall, and he could see a beam of light on the floor, coming nearer. 

Very quietly he backed away from the crack in the door, pushing himself against the wall as close to the corner of the room as he dared and still be covered by the open door. The beam of the flashlight suddenly turned and illuminated the room in was in, playing quickly over the old sofa and the walls. 

Whoever was on the other end of the flashlight took a step deeper into the room, playing the beam slowly over the sofa again. Steve could hear the soft but quicks breaths, catching his own when the beam suddenly swung in his direction. He was still concealed, and he watched wide-eyed as the beam crawled across the floor near his feet then play up the wall beside him. The person holding the light took a small step back and the beam shot through the gap between the door and the wall and, though he had turned away and was wearing dark clothes, he could almost feel the light play slowly up and down his back. And the ominous, overwhelming silence told him more than he needed to know.

He closed his eyes briefly, reluctantly accepting what he had to do. He raised both hands, hesitating a split second, knowing that the next few seconds or, if he was lucky, minutes could be the most consequential of his life.

Quickly and silently, and with all his might, he spun and slammed his weight against the door, going with it as it swung into the person standing just inside the room. And all hell broke loose.

There was a bellow of surprise and pain and the flashlight dropped to the floor, the beam streaking across the thin dirty carpet and up the wall before rolling under the sofa and plunging the room into darkness. Sykes was slammed into the doorframe and stumbled as Steve pulled the door out of his way and threw himself towards the street preacher, who had grabbed at his right shoulder, a tiny moan of pain escaping his lips. 

“Ben!” he heard Carol shout and the beam of her flashlight illuminated Sykes in a half-crouch as the cop’s full weight hit him and they both tumbled into the hallway. 

“Help me!” Sykes growled in her direction as he fought to throw the younger man off, trying to stop him from throwing a punch. The flashlight beam disappeared.

In the dark, on the hallway floor, Steve grabbed at the priest’s lapel with his left hand, trying to orientate himself enough to throw a punch that would connect. Sykes managed to grab Steve’s right forearm and hold him briefly while he used his own right fist to throw a flailing punch that connected with the young cop’s jaw. Stunned, Steve let go of the lapel momentarily and the bigger man bucked, throwing him off and against the kitchen doorframe. Steve gasped in pain as his ribs protested the violent contact, his breath momentarily frozen in his throat. 

Disoriented in the pitch black, Sykes scrambled away, rolling over and trying without much success to get to his feet, unwittingly crawling deeper into the kitchen. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Steve followed on his hands and knees, grabbing for Sykes again, reaching out in the dark for any kind of purchase, his left hand closing around a piece of clothing and pulling with all his might. 

“Carol!” Sykes screamed as he tried to kick Steve away, one foot catching the cop in the stomach. He was rewarded with a loud ‘Oof’ but the hand on the back of his peacoat didn’t let go.

“I’m coming,” came the frightened female voice from somewhere, followed by the pounding of feet and Steve knew he had to do something quick or he would be outmanned in seconds. Still hanging onto Sykes coat, he reached for the .38 on his left hip and found only air. For a split second he froze, his mind unable to comprehend what he his empty hand was trying to tell him; sometime during the brief fight his revolver had slipped from the unsnapped holster.

Sykes’ wildly flailing boot suddenly found its mark and connected with the right side of Steve’s face. Pain shot through his entire body as his head snapped back, and he lost his grip on the peacoat. In the dark of the kitchen, stars spun before his eyes and he could feel warm blood start to trickle down the side of his face.

He could hear Sykes scrambling away again and then suddenly a flying boot caught him square in the chest and all the air was suddenly driven from his lungs. As his unfocused eyes idly realized that he could see Benjamin Sykes terror-filled face illuminated by his sister’s flashlight, he barely clocked the fist that shot out and caught him on the chin, his head jerking back before, as if in slow motion, he tumbled backwards onto the stained and cracked linoleum floor.

Barely conscious, he was staring up at Carol Stayner standing over him, a flashlight in one hand, a desk leg in the other, her face too dark to see. He could hear Sykes, breathing heavily, attempting to get to his feet.

Trying to drag air into his lungs, tasting copper as his lip starting to puff up and with blood now seeping into his left eye, which was slowly swelling and closing, he knew he had failed… failed not only himself but his partner. 

Consciousness beginning to fade, he felt everything begin to spin and he retched, bile rising up to burn the back of his throat. He barely heard Sykes stagger to his feet and lurch closer, swaying over him as the disheveled and obviously livid priest reached for the already bloody length of wood in his sister’s hand.

Then there was a sudden rush of noise, a heavy thudding, and simultaneously the light from Carol’s flashlight disappeared and she screamed in pain and fright. In his semi-conscious state, Steve could hear shouts, deep and male, and the sound of flesh on flesh, muted feminine screams and masculine groans and he could sense bodies all around him, heavy feet stepping on his outstretched arms and legs, and he cried out in pain and confusion as he tried to roll out of the way, trying to stay awake and alert.

And then suddenly there was silence. The beam of a flashlight played quickly over the kitchen cupboards then dropped down to his face. His eyes snapped closed and he ducked his head slightly, moaning in pain at the effort, then he felt someone kneel close to his head. “Hey, man, are you okay?” It wasn’t Sykes.

He rolled onto his back, trying not to moan. The beam moved away from his eyes, towards the floor, then flipped up quickly to illuminate the dark-bearded face hovering over him. Steve frowned slightly, breathing in short sharp gasps, and managed to whisper, “Jake?”

“Yeah, man.”

He felt a comforting hand on his chest and a gentle pat. “I guess Alex and I got here just in time, hunh?”

Steve slowly put both hands on the floor and started to push himself up but Watson pushed him back down. “No no no, you’re in no shape to go anywhere.”

The battered and bleeding inspector shook his head, wincing in pain. “Mike…. I gotta find Mike…”

Watson frowned. “He’s here too?”

Nodding slowly, Steve pushed himself a little higher and Watson helped him to sit up. 

“Where?”

Gasping in pain, wrapping his left arm around his aching chest, Steve shook his head carefully. “I’m not sure… but I think he’s in the office closet.”

Watson frowned. “What?”

Without further explanation, Steve reached for Watson’s hand as he tried to get up. The undercover cop hesitated a beat, then realized he wasn’t going to be able to stop the determined inspector and grabbed for his hand. Gasping once more in pain, Steve staggered to his feet. With Watson’s hand under his elbow, he took an unsteady step out of the kitchen. 

Watson’s flashlight beam played over the scene in the hallway. Benjamin Sykes was lying on his stomach on the floor, his hands cuffed behind him. Carol was in the same position a little further down the hall, and standing between them with a flashlight in one hand and his gun in the other was Alex Kendall.

Kendall’s beam of light snapped to Steve’s face and the afro’d undercover cop caught his breath. “Oh man, Steve…”

Watson nodded at his partner as they moved slowly towards the office, the inspector’s swollen and bloody face etched in pain and anxiety. “Key…” he breathed as he slowly stepped through the door towards the desk. 

“What?”

“Key… to the lock,” Steve managed to get out, nodding towards the hasp on the closet door. Watson played the light over it. “She’s got it…”

“Alex!” Watson called over his shoulder. “She has a key in her pocket. We need it.” 

“You got it!” Kendall bellowed back, and they could hear a struggle in the hallway as he obviously fought with Carol momentarily. He stepped into the room and handed a small ring of keys to his partner. 

As Steve watched anxiously and Kendall illuminated the hasp, Watson found the right key, unlocked the closet and pulled the door open. Both flashlight beams dropped to the floor. Partially obscured by the clothes hanging from the rack, they could see khaki pants and black sneakers and Steve, who was standing unsteadily between his colleagues, gasped in fear.

Watson leaned forward and pushed the clothes back. Curled up on his right side on the closet floor, his hands tied behind his back, a gag in his mouth, his eyes closed and his hair matted with blood, lay Mike Stone.


	69. Chapter 69

“Mike…” Steve breathed as he felt his knees buckle and Kendall’s hand on his arm tighten. He tried to move towards his injured partner but the undercover Vice cop held him back, the flashlight beams illuminating the small closet as Watson knelt and bent over the still unmoving lieutenant.

Hesitating for a beat as if unsure what to do so as not to aggravate any other injuries the older man might have already suffered, but knowing he had to do something, Watson leaned closer, shining the strong beam of light on the floor, allowing it to bounce off the light-coloured walls. He put his free hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder, shaking him slightly as he whispered, “Mike…”, as if afraid of what he was going to find.

Almost immediately, the injured man’s head moved slightly and his eyes opened. He moaned. Kendall felt Steve stagger a bit and he tightened his grip again as the young inspector took an unsteady step forward and tried to lean over his partner.

“Mike…?”

Moving quickly, Watson put the flashlight on the floor beside him as Kendall’s beam took its place. Watson reached behind the lieutenant’s head, his anxious fingers finding the knot at the back of the cloth gag, and pulled at the material until he felt it loosen. “We’ve got you, Mike, you’re gonna be okay….” he said quietly, watching as the blue eyes, blinking slowly, stared at the light bouncing off the wall in front of them. The gag undone, he very gently reached for the material in the lieutenant’s mouth and carefully pulled it out. The older man began to cough and Watson quickly reached out to put both hands on Mike’s shoulders, helping him up into a sitting position to lean, hands bound behind him, against the doorframe.

His head down, eyes squeezed shut, his entire body shaking as he struggled to control the coughing, Mike leaned forward, supported by Watson’s strong hands. Pain-laced moans replaced the coughs as Steve, defying Kendall’s strong restraining grip on his left arm, started to sink slowly to his knees, trying not to groan in pain himself. Safely down, he reached out and laid his hand on his partner’s shoulder and squeezed, holding him steady.

On his knees, Watson carefully leaned around the slightly doubled-over lieutenant and tried to get a grip on the twine binding the older man’s right wrist around the cast on his left forearm. He got his fingers on the knot but it was too tight to work open from his awkward position and, dropping the flashlight and straightening up slightly, he reached into his pants pocket and slid out a small pocketknife. 

He opened the knife, repositioned the flashlight so he could see what he was doing, then cut the twine and pulled it free. Very carefully, Steve helped him bring Mike’s arms, which they surmised were probably numb at the moment, around in front of him, as the older man swayed, moaning in pain, his chin dropping to his chest. Keeping a steadying hand on the back of the lieutenant’s neck in support, Watson held onto him until he was sure Mike wasn’t going to collapse.

He picked up the flashlight and, aiming it at the lieutenant’s chest and not directly into his face, tried to assess the older man’s injuries. Mike raised his head slightly and the Vice cop smiled. “Hey there, Lieutenant, it’s Jake Watson.” He gripped Mike’s shoulder encouragingly. “Alex and Steve and I are here. We’re got you now, you’re gonna be okay…”

Mike blinked slowly a couple of times and his eyes widened slightly. “Steve…?” he mumbled.

“I’m right here, Mike,” his partner said quietly, trying not to let his discomfort show in his voice. He raised his left hand to rest it against Mike’s cheek, watching the blue eyes turn towards him, hoping that, in his present condition and in the semi-dark, the older man wouldn’t notice his battered and bleeding face.

Watson had shone his flashlight beam on the left side of Mike’s head, trying to locate the exact location of the injury concealed by the blood-matted hair. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Mike seemed to think about it for a second, his eyes drifting away from his partner, and he shook his head slightly, catching his breath and groaning. “I don’t think so…” he breathed.

Watson looked up at Kendall and nodded. The black undercover cop nodded in return. “I’ll be right back.” He patted Steve on the shoulder before he turned and headed out of the room, moving as fast as he could in the pitch black, the flashlight beam bouncing in front of him as he started down the stairs.

Watson looked back at the lieutenant then the inspector. “I just want to check on our… detainees. You two gonna be okay here for a few seconds?”

Mike, who was looking down, his eyes closed, nodded slowly. Steve, with a soft chuckle that was more relief than amusement, turned slowly to lean against the wall, gritting his teeth as he reached out and slipped his left arm around his partners shoulders, gently pulling him a little closer in an attempt to steady and secure them both.

Watson smiled as he got slowly to his feet. “Ah, it’s gonna get very dark in here for a bit.”

Steve looked up but he wasn’t smiling. “We’ll be okay…”

The Vice cop turned and stepped out into the hallway. They could hear him talking quietly, obviously reminding the restrained siblings that he was armed and they were cuffed.

Steve felt his partner’s face turn in his direction. “What’s happening?” Mike asked softly, still in obvious pain.

Squeezing Mike’s shoulder tighter, he said softly, “I’ll tell you later…. Let’s just get out of here first, okay…?” He could sense the older man nod slowly and a soft gasp of discomfort, then felt the gentle and welcome pressure of his partner’s head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the various parts of his body crying out for attention.

Two beams of light came back in through the door and Watson knelt down in front of them again. “I found her flashlight,” he said with a chuckle as he handed it to Steve, clocking the tableau in front of him with a warm smile. 

There was the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and Kendall and his beam of light hurried into the room. “Back-up and an ambulance are on their way,” he announced.

Mike raised his head slightly. “I don’t need an -“

“Oh, yeah, you do,” Watson cut him off with a short laugh, well aware of the vaunted detective’s legendary stubbornness. 

Kendall chuckled as well. “Are you guys all right here? I need to go back down and let everybody in.” He took a step towards the door, stopped and spun back. “No lights in the building?”

Both undercover cops looked at Steve, who shook his head. “No. They borrow some downstairs from Gino’s next door during the day,” he explained through clenched teeth, hoping his partner didn’t notice his discomfort or his slightly slurred speech from the swollen lip.

“Humh,” Kendall harrumphed. “Yeah, well, it’s closed…. Okay. Well, I told them to bring flashlights…” He started for the door again.

“Ah, there’s one under the couch in the other bedroom,” Steve called after him and Kendall hesitated for a beat before disappearing.

“Great, thanks.” They could hear him stop then, after a couple of beats, shout, “Found it!” before he continued down the stairs.

Watson had been surreptitiously running the beam of his flashlight over the lieutenant, his head once more against his partner’s shoulder and his eyes closed, trying to confirm that the head wound was the only visible injury. The light played over the cast and he caught his breath. “Yikes,” he said quietly, his eyes snapping up to Steve, who had looked down.

There was a large dent in the side of the cast at the wrist, pieces of broken plaster hanging from the threads of the cotton sleeve that had been partially shredded. It was obvious to both men that whatever had connected with the lieutenant’s head had, thankfully, hit the cast first; the defensive action had most probably saved his life.

“Mike, is your wrist okay?” Watson asked, touching the older man’s left upper arm to get his attention. 

Without opening his eyes, Mike nodded, and Steve and Watson exchanged a wide-eyed and dubious look. “Just my head hurts,” he said quietly.

With a soft sigh, knowing he had done all he could for the moment, Watson sat on the floor in front of the two injured homicide detectives, and put his flashlight on the carpet, the beam bouncing off the closet door, partially illuminating their small section of the room without being intrusive. Steve put his flashlight down on the floor beside him, trying not let the throbbing pain in his face and torso get the better of him at the moment. He wanted to make sure Mike was looked after first, and he knew if the older man realized his partner was in physical distress, he would resist medical attention until the younger man was taken care of.

After a few long beats of silence, Mike raised his head slightly. “Who hit me?” he asked softly.

In the faint light, Steve flashed a quick look at Watson, who raised his eyebrows. “Ah, Carol,” he answered tentatively, and felt the older man freeze momentarily. 

“Carol…?” His voice sounded a little stronger, the other two thought encouragingly.

“Ah, yeah,” Steve continued slowly, “it, ah, it turns out she’s Benjamin Sykes’ sister.”

There was a brief pause. “His sister?”

“Yeah… we got the FBI report…” Steve clenched his teeth, fighting off a wave of pain from the ribs that had collided with the kitchen doorframe. 

Mike didn’t seem to notice; he was silent for a few beats, as if processing what he was being told. “How did you get in?” He sounded very confused.

Steve tightened his grip on his partner’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you all about that later, after we get you looked at. Okay?”

Mike nodded softly, uncharacteristically not putting up a fight, and laid his head against the younger man’s shoulder again. “What did she hit me with?” he mumbled.

“Ah, I’m not sure… but I think it was one of the legs from the desks you and Neil were working on…” Steve sounded almost apologetic.

Surprisingly, he heard Mike chuckle softly and felt him shake a tiny bit. “That seems appropriate…” The older man swallowed heavily and took a deep, pain-filled breath. “I found the baseball bat…”

“I know,” Steve replied quietly, tightening his grip on his partner’s shoulder.

“She could have killed me…” Mike’s voice sounded far away.

“I know,” the younger man repeated in a whisper, pulling his partner a little closer.


	70. Chapter 70

An eerie silence had settled over the room that was obliquely lit by the small flashlights lying on the carpet and bouncing off the walls. Both Homicide detectives had their eyes closed, Mike’s head continuing to rest on his partner’s shoulder, Steve’s arm around Mike’s shoulders. Watson, sitting cross-legged on the carpet halfway to the door, alert for any sound from downstairs or from their detainees, was keeping a close eye on his injured colleagues.

Sirens, growing louder by the second, could finally be heard. The wails stopped abruptly then, several long seconds later, they could hear the glass and metal front door screech open. Eventually the sound of heavy footfalls started pounding up the steps and the beams of flashlights, more powerful than the ones they already had, bounced off the wall at the stop of the staircase. 

“Jake!” they heard a deep voice bellow and Watson, who had scrambled to his feet, yelled back.

“Here!” He stepped into the hallway, meeting a patrol sergeant and his partner as they got to the top of the stairs. 

Neither of the detectives moved but they could clearly hear Watson explain what was going on and instructing the uniformed officers to take Benjamin Sykes and his sister into custody, arresting them for assault on a police officer. More charges, of course, would be laid later, but Watson just wanted to get them out of the building as soon as possible.

More sirens were heard, and other law enforcement personnel began arriving. More flashlights appeared, and the upper floor was starting to get a little crowded. Trying to cope with their respective injuries by staying as quiet as possible, both Mike and Steve reacted only slightly when two anxious, very familiar voices cut through the growing cacophony. They could hear footsteps crossing the rug towards them, suddenly aware of a flashlight beam on their faces a split second before Haseejian’s startled exclamation, “Holy hell, what happened to you two?!”

Squinting into the light, which quickly dropped to chest high, both detectives looked up, unable to see the face attached to the voice. “Norm?” Steve asked, his voice strained.

“Yeah, it’s Dan and me,” Haseejian said as he came a step closer and knelt on one knee. He flicked the flashlight up quickly so the beam illuminated his face momentarily. “Are you two okay?”

Mike, who was blinking slowly, trying to let his eyes adjust to the light, turned slowly in his partner’s direction then froze. The look on Steve’s face was part discomfort, part annoyance; he had hoped to be able to keep his injuries from Mike for awhile longer, at least until the older man had received medical attention. “What the hell…?” escaped his lips almost subconsciously.

“I’m okay,” Steve assured him. 

“Bullshit. What the hell happened?”

Steve shot Haseejian a peeved look, hoping the sergeant understood what it meant, then smiled at his partner reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. “Ah, Ben Sykes and I had a… a disagreement.”

“Who won?” Healey asked from the black void behind Haseejian and both Mike and Steve glanced up into the darkness, momentarily startled by the new voice.

Steve, in discomfort but not out of it completely, looked smugly into the darkness above Haseejian’s head. “Which one of us is in handcuffs?” he bluffed, knowing he would come clean later.

Both Healey and Haseejian chuckled; Mike didn’t. Steve’s smile disappeared. “I’m okay,” he assured the older man again, fully realizing no matter how many times he said it, his partner wouldn’t believe him.

There was more thudding up the stairs, more flashlight beams, and two paramedics were directed into the office. Haseejian’s flashlight backed away as suddenly there was a flurry of activity in the office and the hallway. There was a loud thud as a large red case was set on the desk and a big man in a dark coverall knelt in front of the two detectives. “Hi, fellas,” a deep soothing voice came out of the dark, “my partner and I are just gonna check you out. Ah, you might want to close your eyes.” There was a slight pause then suddenly the bright light from his headlamp snapped on.

His eyes squeezed shut, Steve felt a gentle hand on his chin and his head was tilted slightly; he knew his cut and swollen eyebrow was being examined. Squinting, he opened his eyes again, nodding once towards Mike then staring without blinking at a point just below the light source. He could see the paramedic’s head go back slightly before the hand left his chin and the focus of the light swung towards Mike, whose head was down.

When the paramedic put his hand under his chin, Mike’s head snapped up. He winced in pain and squeezed his eyes closed. “I’m okay,” he growled through clenched teeth, “look after -“

“No, you’re not, Lieutenant,” the deep voice replied calmly, turning Mike’s head very gently to the right and leaning forward even further as the focus of the light settled on the blood-matted hair. “And the more you resist me, the longer this is going to take.” The tone was even and matter-of-fact. 

Steve held his breath, waiting for the angry retort, but it didn’t come. Mike had closed his eyes again, allowing the examination to continue. The gentle fingers cautiously probed the side of his head; he caught his breath in pain when they found the lump and small laceration just above his ear.

“You’ve got quite the bump there, Lieutenant, and you’re going to need an x-ray and a couple of stitches, that’s for sure.” The headlamp dropped down to the broken cast lying in the cop’s lap. He lifted it gently. “Any pain in your wrist or arm?”

Mike shook his head carefully. “No.”

“Well, that’s gonna have to be replaced, that’s for sure.” He lowered Mike’s forearm and the headlamp came back up. “Now, if you’ll let my buddy bandage your head, I’ll give your partner a once-over. Is that okay with you?” There was a soft, gentle chuckle.

Mike opened his eyes and, after a beat, nodded. He felt a final squeeze on his shoulder before Steve removed his arm and there was a shuffling of bodies in the front of them. The gentle hand was now on Steve’s chin, the eyes beneath the bright headlamp carefully examining the swollen lip and eye. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna need a few stitches too, Inspector,” the deep voice murmured. “It doesn’t look like a punch. Did you get kicked?”

Steve’s eyes shot to his left, knowing this was the kind of information that could set his partner off, and he was right. Mike, who had closed his eyes, remaining still as the other paramedic held a gauze pad against the laceration while he bandaged his head, started slightly and twitched as if starting to turn his head. “Don’t move,” came another no-nonsense voice and the older detective froze, setting his jaw.

“Am I gonna have to separate you two?” the lead paramedic chuckled gently. “You hurting anywhere else?” he asked, his attention returning to the younger detective.

Steve hesitated, and beside him he felt Mike stiffen, knowing his lack of an immediate response was more telling than anything he could have said. He watched Mike’s right hand reach out blindly and find his leg, the fingers closing around his knee. With a catch at the back of his throat, he put his own hand over Mike’s and squeezed.

Nodding slowly, Steve looked towards the headlamp light again. “I, ah, I got kicked in the chest and I fell hard against a doorframe. My ribs hurt.” The fingers around his knee tightened and he squeezed his partner’s hand again.

The headlamp bobbled. “Okay. Ah, you fellas think you walk outa here? It’s gonna be a bitch to get a stretcher up here.”

“I’m okay,” Mike said after a beat, keeping his hand on Steve’s knee, his head now bandaged.

After a beat, the younger man nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. I might need a hand getting up…” he tried to chuckle and was reward by a soft laugh from the paramedic.

“That’s not a problem; both of you are gonna get a hand getting up, don’t worry about it.” As he got to his feet, the paramedic chuckled. “I’m Sam, by the way. My buddy’s Andy.”

Both cop’s smiled slightly. “Mike.”

“Steve.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you guys before… ah, not like this, of course, but, ah…” Both paramedics laughed. Sam started to get to his feet then stopped. “So, ah,” his headlamp bobbled, like he was nodding in their direction, “was all this worth it? Did you catch a killer?”

Steve’s eyes unfocused and his point of focus dropped; Mike looked sideways at the younger man. Steve eventually nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly, “yeah… we did… we caught two of them…”

The headlamp bobbed slightly again and they knew Sam was smiling. “Good,” he said softly as he stood.

There were so many flashlights in the room and the hallway now that seeing each other was getting a lot easier. Sam glanced behind him to find Healey and Haseejian standing near the doorway and he beckoned them closer. “You guys want to give us a hand?”

“You bet,” Healey replied quickly, already stepping forward. “What do you need us to do?”

“We’ll get these guys up and then downstairs and out to the ambulance. We’re gonna take it real slow and easy, there’s no rush.” Sam looked at Healey. “You want to help my partner with the young fella? We’ll give Mike a hand.” He nodded at Haseejian, who nodded back.

Steve was easier to flank and he offered no resistance when Healey and Andy leaned down to put their hands under his elbows and help him to his feet; Mike watched with a worried frown. As they started towards the door, Healey lighting the way, it was obvious Steve was in pain.

Mike allowed himself to be helped up, taking a few seconds to make sure he had his balance and he wasn’t dizzy, then shrugged off the hands on his elbows. “I’m okay, fellas. It’s just my head.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, well, I don’t want you tumbling down the stairs; it doesn’t look good on my record. So - for me - how ‘bout I just hang on to you while we tackle the steps?”

Mike looked at him expressionlessly for a beat then smiled. He nodded carefully. “Yeah, I can live with that.” He started towards the door slowly, taking in Haseejian with a warm and appreciative nod as he followed his slow-moving partner out of the office. 

There were numerous officers milling about in the hallway and the other rooms, but Sykes and his sister were nowhere to be seen. During the hubbub of the past several minutes, they had obviously been removed from the scene. 

The small procession finally made it down the flight of stairs to the still dark first floor and started through the storeroom towards the ‘classroom’. Mike turned to Haseejian, who was walking protectively close beside him. “Ah, listen, Norm, I think it goes without saying that Steve and I are gonna be out of the line-up for awhile,” he began, and the sergeant nodded with a soft, commiserating chuckle. “I, ah, I want you and Dan to take over this case, okay? Nail Sykes and his sister for the homeless murders.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Good. Ah, there’s some stuff you’ll need to know… some things we need to give you. And you gotta talk to the undercover guys, especially Watson and Kendall…”

Haseejian touched his arm softly. “Don’t worry about it right now, Mike. We can figure all that out tomorrow.”

Mike nodded carefully as he shuffled across the classroom with his guardians, glancing down as they skirted the pile of desk parts, stunned by how much things had changed in the past couple of hours.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” 

He heard the worried exclamation from further ahead and looked up. Both Sam and Haseejian raised their flashlights and the beams caught the heart-stopping sight of Healey and the paramedic lowering the limp body of his partner to the floor.


	71. Chapter 71

“Steve!” Mike bellowed in shock and fear as he watched his partner’s unconscious body being lowered to the floor. He took two quick steps forward then stopped as the room suddenly spun and he staggered. His right hand automatically shot out towards Haseejian beside him, who grabbed his arm and held on as all three continued to stare at the scene playing out before them.

The paramedic shot to his feet and headed quickly out the metal-and-glass front door.  
Healey, kneeling beside his colleague, his hand under Steve’s head, looked up in Mike’s direction, his features obscured, the flashlight beams on the young man’s ashen face, his eyes closed. “It’s okay, Mike,” Healey reassured quickly, “he just passed out. He’s gonna be all right.”

“Steve,” Mike tried to call out again, his voice shaking, as Sam and Haseejian helped him move closer, a hand on each arm. Then Sam let him go and followed his colleague out the front door. 

“He’s gonna be okay, Mike, don’t worry,” Haseejian said quietly, feeling the despair emanating from the man beside him. 

Slowly Mike began to kneel, trying to reach out, and the sergeant sank down with him, giving as much support as he could. “Steve…” Mike breathed, repeating his partner’s name over and over as he tried to lay his trembling right hand against his partner’s face. Healey looked at him again, his encouraging smile barely visible in the dim reflected glow from the flashlights. 

The front door banged open and Sam reappeared, dragging a stretcher behind him, Andy bringing up the rear. Both Healey and Haseejian got quickly to their feet; Haseejian helped the lieutenant up and they all took several steps back, Mike reluctantly, his eyes never leaving his young friend’s face.

Healey handed Haseejian his flashlight as he skirted the stretcher and crossed to the door, holding it open. Streetlight, muted by the fog, and the bright headlights from the emergency vehicles parked near the door helped to throw a bit more illumination on the dim interior of the abandoned bodega. 

Moving swiftly, and with practiced ease, the two paramedics picked Steve up and laid him gently on the stretcher, then immediately wheeled it through the door Healey was holding open and within seconds it was sliding into the back of the ambulance. As Sam slammed the back doors, he turned to Healey, who was right behind him. He nodded towards Mike and Haseejian, who were just coming through the door, Mike looking anxiously in their direction. “Mike doesn’t need to go with us in the ambulance. Can you take him to St. Francis?”

Healey nodded quickly. “Sure.”

“Great. Tell him Steve’s going to be okay… and you drive carefully.” Sam smiled grimly then circled the ambulance and got in the passenger side door. The siren started to wail as it pulled away from the curb, the flashing lights almost blinding in the gloom of the foggy night.

Mike had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the departing ambulance in confusion. Healey approached in two rapid strides. “They’re taking him to St. Francis. He wants Norm and me to take you.”

Mike’s eyes swung slowly in his direction; the older man looked worried, and frighteningly unsteady. He was visibly shaking, and Haseejian realized he was wearing just a cotton shirt over a t-shirt. “Hey, ah, do you have a jacket or something?”

Mike nodded slowly, his attention returning to where the ambulance had disappeared. “Ah, yeah… yeah, it’s in there somewhere…” He nodded faintly back at the store.

Haseejian tossed a glance over his own shoulder then started to shrug his overcoat off. He draped it across the older man’s shoulders then put his arm around him and started to lead him towards the moss green Galaxie angled to the curb. He opened the front passenger side door and helped Mike in then sat in the back as Healey got behind the wheel.

The quick trip to St. Francis was made in silence. Haseejian stared at the back of Mike’s head while Healey kept taking quick glances across the front seat, then meeting his partner’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

It took them a lot longer to get to the hospital than the ambulance and, surprisingly but comfortingly, Sam was waiting for them when the unmarked cop car pulled up to the Emergency entrance. The senior paramedic smiled as he moved to the passenger side door and opened it as an obviously worried Mike turned in the seat, trying not to wince as he started to climb out.

“He’s going to be fine, Mike, you can relax,” Sam said quickly, moving closer to the car to block the older man’s unnecessary and potentially injurious hurried exit. The two anxious blue eyes looked up at him, as if begging for confirmation. His smile getting a little wider, Sam nodded. “He woke up in the ambulance and he was asking about you.”

Mike swallowed unsteadily. “Why did he collapse?” he asked hoarsely, trying to find his voice.

“Well, we don’t know that yet, of course, but I think it might be his ribs. He could have a partially collapsed lung but we’ll have to wait and see after they finish with the x-rays.” He took a step back as Healey arrived with a wheelchair, the sergeant frowning at his boss with a no-nonsense glare that told the older man that he didn’t have any choice in the matter. 

Frowning his disapproval but wisely remaining silent, Mike allowed Sam and Haseejian to help him out of the car and into the chair. His head was pounding, and he was worried, and he just didn’t have the strength or the will to fight anymore.

# # # # #

He was lying on a gurney in the examination room, his right hand on his forehead and his eyes closed. He had been examined, stitched, his head x-rayed and re-bandaged, given Tylenol, had the broken cast removed, his wrist x-rayed, and was now waiting for an orthopaedic technologist to arrive to apply a new cast.

He had no idea how much time had gone by, but his stomach was in knots. No one he had interacted with had any idea what was going on with his partner, and the lack of information was beginning to take its toll.

He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration, feeling the thin layer of tears balanced precariously between the lids. He rubbed at his eyes with his right fingers, keeping his temporarily tensor-bandaged left arm on the bed like he had been told.

He exhaled loudly and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, trying to distract himself by counting the small decorative holes in the ceiling tiles once again. He heard the door open. “Oh, here you are…” came a familiar voice and he opened his eyes, raising his head slightly so he could see his visitor.

A smiling, though worried-looking, Roy Devitt moved closer to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

Mike frowned, his heart starting to race. “How’s Steve?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Devitt chuckled, raising both hands as he stopped beside the bed and looked down at his battered colleague. The words sent a shiver down Mike’s spine and his frown deepened. “One thing at a time, okay? How are you doing?”

Mike’s right hand shot out and he grabbed the captain’s forearm roughly. “How’s Steve?” he repeated, his voice louder and more frantic.

Devitt’s smile disappeared; there was no mistaking the naked anxiety in his colleague’s demeanour. “He’s okay, he’s okay,” he said quickly, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on his friend’s heaving chest. “I just left him,” he continued soothingly, knowing he had to say more. “He’s resting comfortably and he told me to tell you he’s doing fine.” He tried a light smile. “He, ah, he wants me to go back and tell him how you’re doing,” he chuckled.

Mike closed his eyes and let his head drop carefully back onto the pillow, taking longer and deeper breaths in an attempt to get himself under control. He could feel Devitt’s gentle hand patting his chest, and he was grateful for the soothing touch.

When he finally had confidence in the strength of his voice, he asked, “Do they know why he passed out?”

Devitt nodded with a tiny smile. “Umh-humh. He has two broken ribs on his left side, and his lung partially collapsed.” When Mike’s eyes widened in alarm, he continued quickly, “Don’t worry, like I said, he’s okay. They used a needle,” he shuddered theatrically with a slight chuckle, trying to take the enormity out of his description, “and re-inflated it and now all he has to do is rest.” He shrugged to punctuate the end of his explanation.

Mike was eyeing him skeptically. “Is that all?”

Devitt frowned. “What do you mean, is that all?”

“He hurt more than just his ribs his ribs, so what else aren’t you telling me?”

The captain’s eyes widened and he chuckled. “Oh, well, if you’re talking about his face, he had two stitches in his eyebrow and one on the corner of his lip, and he has a couple of bruises on his chest and stomach, but those are minor, believe me. Even Steve said so.” He pointed at the door and chuckled. “Go ask him if you don’t believe me.”

Mike stared at him expressionlessly, not appreciating his colleague’s attempt at levity, then he drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. A very tiny smile appeared on his lips. “I believe you…” he said softly and Devitt’s chuckle turned into a full-throated, and very relieved, laugh. He patted Mike’s chest a few more times before removing his hand. He glanced around, finding a stool near the far wall, and pulled it closer to the bed. “So, as I asked before, how are you doing?”

Mike opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “I feel like hell.”

“I’m not surprised. From what I heard, you took quite the whack on the head. But I also heard you also managed to solve that series of homeless murders?”

Mike turned his head slightly and stared at his colleague through slightly baffled eyes. “Well, inadvertently.”

Devitt frowned with a confused smile. “What do you mean by that?”

“It was a… a happy accident, I guess you could call it. I just stumbled onto it… one of the murder weapons… by accident.”

“Is that when you got hit?”

Mike nodded carefully, reaching up to gently touch the bandage around his head. “Yeah…”

“Was Steve with you?”

Mike shook his head slightly with a soft shrug. “No… I’m still not sure how he got there… or why…”

“Well, we can figure that out later. Look, I’m gonna let you rest. I just want to let you know that I’m here, and Rudy will be on the way shortly. And, according to your orders, or so I’ve heard, Dan and Norm are taking over your case. They’re at 850, by the way, following up on things there so you don’t need to worry about anything… it’s all being taken care of, okay?”

Mike nodded slowly again. “Thanks, Roy.” As Devitt got up from the stool, he reached out and grabbed the captain’s arm. “Tell Steve…” he started, then stopped, his eyes drifting away slightly and swallowed, “ah, tell Steve…”

Devitt smiled. “I’ll tell him you’re fine and you’re thinking of him too. Is that what you want me to say?”

With a grim, grateful smile, Mike nodded. 

Devitt turned back at the door. “Oh, ah, by the way, there’s a couple of undercovers out in the lobby too. Watson and Kendall? They want me to tell you to get well soon and, ah… and that you’re welcome.” He shrugged in confusion and chuckled.

Mike’s smile got a little wider and, for the first time, he chuckled. “Tell them thanks… and tell them I have a lot of questions for them too.”

Devitt laughed. “I bet you do.” He winked. “I’ll see you later.”

Mike watched the door close then looked up at the ceiling again. He closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. Then he smiled.


	72. Chapter 72

He drifted to consciousness again, slowly opening his eyes onto the dim room. He could hear very muted sounds through the heavy wooden door and the low hum of the building itself but other than that, everything was unnaturally quiet. It was a small room and he was its only occupant, and that bothered him. 

He had lost all track of time and had no idea how many hours had passed since they had finished stitching him up, suctioning the air from his chest and re-inflating his collapsed lung. He was still having a great deal of discomfort every time he took a breath, even with the medication that made him sluggish and sleepy, and he knew he would have to deal with the pain for awhile yet. He’d already been told he wouldn’t be going home for at least two days, or possibly longer, depending on how fast he started to heal.

And that was what was bothering him. Devitt had returned from his ‘reconnaissance mission’ with news that Mike was doing fine, that he had been examined, x-rayed and stitched and would be getting a brand-new cast on his still healing wrist. But that was the last thing he had heard. And if his partner was going to be admitted, which he assumed would happen, why weren’t they sharing a room? It had been arranged before.

Trying not to move his head, he looked down towards his right hand, groping carefully around on the flannelette blanket beside his leg, trying to find the call button he knew was there somewhere. He touched the hard plastic, his fingers closing quickly around it, then he paused, suddenly unsure. Was he being overly paranoid, he wondered. He didn’t want to pull a nurse away from something critically important, possibly life-and-death, just to inquire about his partner, but the uncertainly was becoming increasingly disturbing.

He closed his eyes, holding on to the call button like a totem, a talisman that could magically make his partner appear. He dragged a lungful of air in through his nose, wincing at the pain but needing the diversion from the worry that was becoming all-consuming.

Trying not to think, trying not to obsess, he let himself slowly drift back into a troubled but necessary sleep.

# # # # #

There was a hesitant knock on the door and Mike looked in its direction. “Come in.”

It was pushed open slowly and Captain Olsen stuck his head in. “Oh, good, I finally found the right room. Even after all these years, I still get turned around in this place,” he chuckled self-consciously as he crossed the small room towards his lieutenant.

Mike, his head bandaged and his still-drying cast in a temporary sling, was sitting in the middle of the examination table, facing the door and looking thoroughly miserable. Olsen stopped, looking him up and down with a furrowed brow, then tried an encouraging smile that actually seemed more sad than uplifting. “How, ah, how are you feeling?”

Mike stared at him without moving then snorted softly. “How does it look like I feel?”

Olsen nodded slightly. “Rough day, hunh?”

The lieutenant snorted softly again, looking down and shaking his head carefully. “Is it still even the same day? I have no idea. I’ve been stuck in this god damn room…” he shrugged slightly, “I don’t know how long… and now they say I can go home but I can’t go home alone and I haven’t been able to see Steve…” He dropped his head and closed his eyes and Olsen could hear a loud, despondent sigh. 

The captain took a step closer to his friend and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Well,” he said with a gravely-voiced softness, “that’s why I’m here.”

Mike’s head came up, his eyes wary.

Olsen smiled. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.” He chuckled self-deprecatingly, taking his hand away and stuffing it in his pants pocket. “So let’s take your grievances one at a time, shall we?” Mike’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and the captain’s smile widened. “You said they told you you can go home, but you’re not allowed to be alone when you’re at home, at least not for a day or two… right?”

Mike nodded slightly, tensing. “Right…”

“Okay, well, that’s easy. Phone calls have already been made. And arrangements are in place for you to have your own personal… nurse for the next two days.” He paused and smiled wickedly then chuckled. “Don’t look so stricken, you’ve already used her services just a few weeks ago.”

The lieutenant frowned. “Sandra Healey?”

Olsen raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Dan called here to see how you were doing and Roy talked to him about what your doctor had said, so Dan called his wife and she’s gonna take a coupla days off work and… ta-da!” He chuckled again. “She’s gonna meet us at your place. I’ll give her a call before we leave.”

Mike’s expression didn’t change and, after a long silent second, Olsen frowned. “You don’t like the idea?” he asked hesitantly.

The blue eyes softened. “Ah, no… no, I do…. It’s just… well, it’s too much to ask for her to do that again. It’s not fair…

Olsen snorted. “What are you talking about, fair? Mike, she’s not doing this because she’s been pressured into doing it, she’s doing it because she, like everybody else by the way, cares about you and Steve and wants to help.” He paused, staring at his old friend with a warm smile. He was not usually so verbose and candid and he was a little self-conscious. “Besides, both of you are going to be on sick leave for at least another month, doctor’s orders, and both of you shouldn’t’ve even been ‘on the front line’, so to speak, and I’m gonna have to explain that to Conden and the Chief, so spare a good thought or two for me in all this too, will ya?”

Mike was starting to look a little chastised. “Rudy, I wasn’t on duty when this happened, it was just a… a fluke that I found the baseball bat,” he shrugged slightly, “and I have no idea why, or how, Steve was there…. But I’m glad he showed up.”

“So am I,” Olsen muttered under his breath.

“But what happened to him is my fault,” Mike continued softly and Olsen’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“What the hell are you talking about? Of course it’s not your fault.” He growled slightly, trying to get a handle on his growing irritation. “Look, we still don’t know exactly what went down, ‘cause we haven’t had a chance to really talk to him yet, or you to be perfectly honest, but from what Watson and Kendall have said, they followed Sykes and his sister from the… the temple, or whatever you call it, to the bodega. They followed them inside, into the pitch black, and used their lighters to trail them to the back of the store but by the time they got to the stairs they didn’t know what they were walking into, they just knew it felt kinda… hinky to them, which is the way they explained it to me. But before they knew it, they could hear the sound of a fight. A bad one, from what they said. They got up the stairs as fast as they could and, well, managed to subdue Skyes and Stayner after a scuffle. But by that time, they said, Steve was already laid out on the kitchen floor and Stayner had been standing over him with a chair leg in her hand.”

Mike’s had closed his eyes and his breaths were shallow and unsteady. Olsen reached out and laid his hand gently on his shoulder once more. “They, ah, they found his gun on the floor in another room…”

The blue eyes opened under a confused frown. “What?”

“He didn’t use his gun, Mike. Maybe he didn’t want to use it in the dark, unable to see exactly where he was firing, or he never got the chance, I don’t know… But it was either knocked out of his hand before he could… or it fell out of his unsnapped holster. We’ll have to find out… for the report.”

Mike looked away, nodding softly. 

“And, ah, we found an open window on the second floor and a ladder leaning up against the back of the building…”

Mike stared into space for a long second before he looked up again. “He crawled in through a second storey window?”

Olsen nodded. “Looks like it.”

The injured lieutenant let the new information sink in for several long seconds. “They could’ve killed him…”

Olsen nodded again. “If Watson and Kendall hadn’t gotten there when they did…” He let the rest of the thought hang and felt Mike shudder under his touch. He squeezed his friend’s shoulder once more, patted him a couple of times then dropped his hand, shoving both of them in his pants pockets. “So, you gonna take Sandra Healey up on her offer?”

Swallowing heavily, Mike looked up at his captain and old friend and smiled faintly. “Yeah… yeah, of course. I’m, ah, I’m just a little overwhelmed, I guess… thank you…”

“Well,” Olsen shrugged, “don’t thank me, it was Dan’s idea, and his wife jumped at the chance to help you out again…” He smiled sadly. “Let’s face it, you and Steve have had a rough couple of months…”

At the mention of his partner’s name again, Mike’s demeanour changed in a split second. He looked worried and he reached out with his right hand to grab the captain’s sleeve. Olsen pulled his right hand out of his pocket and raised his index finger to stall the questions he knew would be coming. 

“Before you ask, let me finish, okay? I literally just came from his room. He’s sedated but he’s in and out and, when he wakes up, he’s surprisingly lucid,” he said with a soft chuckle. When Mike’s worried frown got deeper, he realized he had to be more upbeat and encouraging; the anxious lieutenant wasn’t a good audience for witty observational humour at the moment, no matter how well-intentioned. “And, if you’ll ride in a wheelchair like you have to, I can take you to his room right now. How does that sound?”

Mike stared at him silently for a beat then brought his right hand up and covered his mouth. He nodded. “Where’s the chair?”

Olsen grinned. “Right outside the door. Give me a second and I’ll get it.”

# # # # #

The wheelchair turned the corner and started towards the bank of elevators. Mike glanced up as Olson pulled him to a stop and his gaze automatically snapped to the window at the end of the hall. The muted sunlight from an overcast sky was streaming in and Mike twisted slightly to look up at the captain as Olsen leaned forward to push the Up button.

“What time is it?”

Olsen looked at his wristwatch. “Ah, 11:38.”

“In the morning?”

Muffling a chuckle, and with his own quick glance at the window, the captain nodded. “Ah, yeah, in the morning.”

“We’ve been here all night?”

“That’s right. Now you know why we’re all so tired,” he chuckled again as the chime rang and the large doors opened. Grinning, he turned and backed the wheelchair into the busy elevator as people moved aside to make room.

# # # # #

They stopped outside a door and Olsen stepped closer to push it open. 

“No, wait,” Mike stopped him. “I want to walk in on my own… okay?”

Olsen hesitated for a second then nodded. He reached down to lock the wheels then held the chair securely as, one-handedly, Mike slowly pushed himself up. He glanced back at the captain and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Take your time,” Olsen said quietly. “We’re in no hurry.”

Mike stared at him for a beat, then nodded gratefully. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and pushed the door open, and Olsen watched as it slowly closed behind him.


	73. Chapter 73

Mike stood silently just inside the door, staring at the sleeping young man on the upraised hospital bed. He could feel himself shaking slightly, and he wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion, or relief, or some other emotion that he couldn’t put a name to at the moment.

He watched the slow and rhythmic rise and fall of his partner’s chest for several long moments, the back of his throat starting to tighten. Then, clearing his throat softly, he took a step deeper into the room. There was a white plastic chair against the wall near the door and he picked it up and brought it close to the right side of the bed, putting it down soundlessly. He took a step closer to the bed and studied the face he had come to know so well over the past few years, now stitched, swollen and bruised.

He reached out to gently lay his hand on Steve’s chest then stopped himself, reluctant to wake him from the sleep he so sorely needed. With a faintly disappointed half-smile, he stepped back to the chair and sank into it silently, cradling the still-hardening cast as he stared at the bed.

# # # # #

His eyes were almost completely closed, his chin on his chest, when the sound of rustling caught his attention and he brought his head up more quickly than he should have, the jarring movement sending a bolt of agony through his skull. He gasped involuntarily, squeezing his eyes closed, his right hand shooting up to grab his forehead as he rode out the wave of pain.

When it finally receded, he dropped his hand and opened his eyes. An obviously worried Steve was staring at him. “Are you okay?”

Mike tried to smile reassuringly and nodded slightly to punctuate the effort; he wasn’t sure he was successful. “I’m fine.”

With a skeptical grunt, Steve’s eyes slid briefly to the gauze bandage. “How’s the head?”

His smile getting a little wider, the older man chuckled. “It’s not broken, if that’s what you’re asking.” He raised his eyebrows as best as he could. “How many times over the years have I told you I -“

“Have a hard head,” they finished together, and they both grinned and chuckled softly. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and caught his breath, and his left hand came up to cover his injured ribs. Worried, Mike reached out and laid his hand on his partner’s right arm. “Are you all right? Do you want me to get the doctor?”

The pain-laced features of the young man in the bed relaxed, replaced by a small affectionate smile, and he opened his eyes. “I’m okay…” he breathed softly and shallowly, staring into the concerned blue eyes. He glanced at a chair on the other side of the bed. “Can you pass me that?” he asked and Mike looked over the bed at the chair.

“What? The pillow?”

Steve nodded. With a slight shrug Mike got slowly to his feet, shuffled around the bed and picked the pillow up. He held it towards the bed; Steve took it carefully and laid it softly on his chest. Breathing shallowly, he wrapped his arms around the pillow and pressed it gently against his ribs as Mike circled back to the chair.

“Does that help?” he asked as he sat.

Closing his eyes, Steve nodded. “They said to press it lightly against my chest when I have to cough or take deep breaths… or talk. It helps to ease the pain.”

Mike suddenly looked worried and he started to get up again. “Oh… geez, sorry, buddy boy. I’ll get out of here…”

“No, Mike, stop -“ Steve said faster and louder than he wanted to and gasped in pain.

Mike froze halfway to his feet, staring at his young friend now obviously in pain, suddenly angry at himself for causing this unexpected complication. “You’ve gotta rest. I can come back -“

“Mike,” Steve repeated, softer and calmer this time, and the older man stopped. He looked so scared and guilty that, despite the pain, Steve couldn’t hide the sympathetic smile that expectedly lit his face. They stared at each other silently for a couple of long seconds, then he said quietly, “I’m okay, and I don’t want you to go.” He held the pillow a little tighter and watched as, after a beat and after apparently assuring himself that everything was okay, Mike slowly sank back down on the small plastic chair.

“You sure you’re okay?”

The pillow still pressed against his chest, Steve nodded. “I was wondering what happened to you. Nobody was telling me anything.”

Mike snorted. “Same here. Roy told me about your ribs and the… the needle,” he winced, “and that you were doing okay but then I didn’t hear anything for hours.” He smirked with a disbelieving smile. “Do you know it’s around noon already?”

Steve’s eyebrows rose. “It is?”

The older man nodded sharply, then winced, his right hand shooting up to his temple. “Damn it, I gotta remember not to do that for awhile.”

The younger man was watching worriedly. When Mike made eye contact again, he nodded towards the cast. “I thought you were getting that off next week anyway. Why did they put another one on?”

Mike looked down at his left forearm and shrugged. “Well, they couldn’t get ahold of the doctor who put the pin in, and they weren’t about to take my word for it, I guess,” he chuckled. “They took an x-ray. I’m assuming they didn’t like what they saw. But they’re making an appointment with the other doctor at the other hospital, the one that put the pin in, and he gets the last word.” He shrugged again with a chuckle. “So until then I’m stuck with this.”

Steve smiled warmly. “Well, could be worse, I guess.”

Mike’s smile wavered and his gaze flicked from the stitches in the younger man’s swollen eyebrow to the one on his lip before settling on the green eyes again. “So, ah other than the chest, how are you feeling?”

With a wry smile, Steve shrugged ever so slightly. “My face is sore.”

“It looks sore.”

“Well, like I said, it could be worse.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure.”

They fell into a companionable silence for a few long beats, Mike looking at Steve, who was staring up at the ceiling, his arms still around the pillow against his chest, both of them reflecting on the events of the previous night. The younger man turned his head slightly. “They’re not admitting you?”

Mike started to shake his head then stopped himself with a subdued roll of his eyes. “Ah, no, they said I can go home.”

Steve frowned. “Alone?” There was a great deal of concern in that one word.

Mike raised his right hand. “Relax, relax. No, I am not going home alone,” he carefully enunciated every word to make a point. 

“So where are you going?”

“Home.” Mike smiled enigmatically and watched playfully as his partner’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Is… Jeannie coming home?”

“No,” Mike chuckled derisively. “She doesn’t know about this,” he pointed at his bandaged head, “and she’s not going to.” 

When he didn’t say anything else, Steve’s frown got a little deeper. He knew Mike was just having a little fun with him, and he appreciated the respite from everything they had just gone through. “I’m really not in the mood for twenty questions right now,” he said with a smile in his voice, “and I don’t think you are either, so why don’t you just tell me.”

Mike pretended to sigh theatrically, rolling his eyes again but making sure he didn’t hurt himself in the process. “Oh, all right. You’re suddenly no fun.“ He chuckled and winked, rewarded with a narrow-eyed smirk. “Sandra Healey is going to move in with me for a couple of days… again.”

Steve stared at him without expression for a long beat then asked quietly, “Does Dan know?”

Mike slumped slightly and pursed his lips. “Ha ha. You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

Steve chuckled, squeezing the pillow to his chest tighter to try to ward off the pain. Mike leaned forward, pretending to swat his arm. Then they looked at each other warmly, their smiles lingering. “I’m glad you’re going home,” the younger man said softly.

“Yeah…. You know, we’re both gonna be on the shelf for at least a month. You know that, right?”

Steve nodded slightly. “Yeah, Rudy told me. I guess it’s not a bad idea.”

“Well, I don’t think we have much choice.” Mike stared at his injured partner and sighed softly. “Listen, ah, I want to know everything that happened last night… everything. But not right now. I want you to rest and get stronger and get out of here. I’m getting sick of seeing you in a hospital bed.” He stopped himself and snapped his mouth closed, shaking his head slightly. “No pun intended,” he sighed with a chuckle and Steve grinned. Mike’s smile disappeared. “Anyway, I want you healthy enough to get out of here,” he gestured vaguely around the room, “before you sit down with anyone for a formal interview… even with me. And I’ll make sure Rudy knows how I feel about it.” He stared at the younger man. “Agreed?”

Steve nodded gently. “Agreed.” He frowned slightly. “But won’t they need our input to charge Sykes and his sister for the homeless murders?”

Mike tilted his head and snorted softly. “Oh, we’ll have enough to nail them for all those, I’m pretty sure of that, after the lab gets its hands on that bat, and who knows what else they’ll find in the Steiner house. But there’s no rush on that. They’re both under arrest right now for assault on a police officer - that would be you - and neither one of them is getting out on bail, so flight is not a risk, and we can take our time with the rest.” He smiled slightly, his eyes suddenly melancholy. “Besides, I want to be the one to formally charge them for the murders.”

Steve stared at him expressionlessly for a long beat then nodded. “I want to be there when you do,” he said softly.

Mike smiled. “Oh, you will be, don’t worry.” He stared at the young man, watching the green eyes begin to droop, the blinks becoming slower and longer. “Ah, listen, ah… I better get out of here and let you get some sleep. The sooner you start to feel better, the sooner you can get out of here, right?” He winked as he started to push himself to his feet. Standing, he reached out to lay his free hand on his partner’s arm; Steve let go of the pillow and grabbed his partner’s hand. He squeezed as hard as he could, staring up with a sleepy smile. 

“I’m glad you’re okay… and I’m glad you’re going home.”

Mike smiled, biting his bottom lip, and nodded. When Steve released his hand after a final squeeze, he started to turn towards the door then looked back. “Ah, you want me to call Jennifer… tell her about what’s going on?” he asked hesitantly but with a knowing smile.

Steve grinned up at him. “Ah, I’ve been thinking bout that.” He chuckled softly and carefully. “I, ah, I think I should wait a couple of days. I’m not sure I could handle all the, ah… the attention.”

Mike stared at him expressionlessly for a couple of beats. “That’s what you’re calling it now? Attention?”

The younger man chuckled gently again, wrapping both arms around the pillow, bobbing his eyebrows above a smug and suggestive smile. “That’s the PG version.”

His partner lowered his head slightly and raised his eyebrows. “I bet it is.” He grinned. “Listen, ah, you do everything the doctor’s tell you, you hear me. I want you out of here sooner than later.” His smile briefly disappeared and he swallowed self-consciously. He reached out and briefly touched the side of the younger man’s face, nodding softly to himself. “You take care of yourself and I’ll see you soon.”

Then he turned without another word and shuffled to the door. He had just pulled it open when he heard his name called and he looked back at the bed. Steve was staring at him evenly. Their eyes locked for a long beat then the younger man smiled encouragingly and nodded. Mike nodded back then stepped through the door.


	74. Chapter 74

“So when did they let you out?”

“A couple of hours ago. Jennifer picked me up.”

“You should’ve given me a call. I could’ve picked you up.”

“I thought you weren’t allowed to drive for a few more days?”

“Well, I’m sure I could’ve driven to your place from the hospital. It’s not that far, you know.” There was a snort and a laugh on the other end of the line. “What?”

“Okay, I can tell you need a few more days off. You have no idea what you just said, do you?”

“What? I said I could’ve driven to your place from the hospital. So?”

“Think about it.” There was a couple of very long seconds of silence. “So…? How were you going to get to the hospital…?” 

There was another long silence then, “Oh yeah…. I guess I would’ve had to drive to the hospital from here…”

“Unh-hunh… and then after dropping me off at my home, you would’ve had to drive all the way back to yours…”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Oh well, it was a thought.”

“It was a nice thought, and I appreciate it. It just wasn’t a… practical thought.”

“Yeah, well, I would’ve had to get my keys back from Attila the Hun anyway, and I don’t think that would’ve happened either.”

There was a short, confused pause. “What?”

“She, ah, she took my car keys.”

“Who took your car keys? Sandra? You call her Attila the Hun?”

“Yeah. Well, not to her face, of course. But she’s turned out to be a real… dictator. She said I was told not to drive and she was going to make sure I didn’t. So she took my keys.”

“Is she still staying with you?”

“No. She moved home this morning, but she told me she would be stopping by every night after dinner to check on me - whether I like it or not, were her exact words - until she was satisfied I was okay and that’s when she would give me my keys back.”

“You, ah, you sound kinda… sanguine about it.”

“If that means I’ve resigned myself to my fate and I’ve decided not to fight it for the time being, then, yes, I’m sanguine about it.” They both chuckled. “So how are you feeling?”

“Well, my chest is still pretty sore, so I won’t be going anywhere for awhile either. I’ve been told to get as much rest as I can for the next few days but to ‘stay active’. My doctor suggested going for walks but when I told him where I live I thought he was going to have a heart attack. So Jennifer’s going to drive me to Golden Gate Park tomorrow and we’re gonna go for a slow walk around the lake.”

“That sounds nice. Make sure you just walk though, right?”

“Ha ha, very funny. To be honest, I can’t do much more than just walk for awhile anyway. At least not if I want to get back to work before the end of the year.”

“Has she moved in with you?”

“Yeah… but she’s going to sleep on the couch.”

‘Yeah… right… that’s gonna happen…”

“It’s just gonna be for a couple of days.”

“Unh-hunh. So… you want me to try to find a supply of saltpeter?” The question was punctuated with a snort and a chuckle.

“You know that’s an old wives’ tale, right?”

“It is? Damn, and I thought it was true. Oh well, I guess you’re just going to have to depend on your… self-control…”

There was a telling pause. “You sound skeptical.”

“I know you.”

“Point taken.” They shared another laugh. “So, have you heard anything about Sykes and Stayner?”

“Not much. I do believe there’s a concerted effort to keep everything from me during ‘my recovery’, which is, you know, pissing me off more than I can say…. But I managed to wheedle a couple of things out of Dan last night when he came by to pick his wife up.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, he wouldn’t give me any details but he did say Gerry is almost ready to charge them with the homeless murders.”

“What did they find?”

“He wouldn’t tell me, even though I’m the boss and I ordered him to.” There was a short, sharp harrumph. 

“Did it work?”

“No…. I’m on sick leave, remember…? I’ve got all the authority of a paper bag at the moment.” There was a warm chuckle on the other end of the line. “Anyway, look, ah, I’ll let you go so you can get some rest. I’m glad you’re home. And, ah, and if I can swing it, I’m gonna try to see if they’ll get together with us sometime in the next few days and fill us in on what’s happening.”

“That sounds good.”

“So, ah, I’m pretty sure they don’t want us coming into the Hall and I don’t want you to even try my stairs here… so are you up to maybe having a little get together at your place so they can bring us up to speed?”

“Sure, of course. When do you think?”

“I don’t know. I’ll find out and let you know as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Okay. So, ah, you take care of yourself, and make sure Jennifer doesn’t give you too much… attention… and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Ooooo, it’s so hard not to give in to that… attention, you know…”

“I know, but I have faith in you, hang in there, buddy boy…” They shared a warm chuckle. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Mike.”

“Goodnight.”


	75. Chapter 75

“Hey, there he is!” Haseejian crowed as he opened the Union Street apartment door, his eyes as wide as his grin. “How you doing, Mike?” There was no mistaking the warmth in his voice as he took a couple of steps back to let the lieutenant and his own partner into the small apartment.

Smiling, Mike moved deeper into the room, his gaze quickly snapping to the couch where Steve was already ensconced, facing the entranceway with his own anticipatory stare. It was the first time the partners were setting eyes on each other since Mike had been discharged from the hospital. And, in that brief instant, they both liked what they saw. 

Steve looked relaxed, slouching against the corner of the couch, his left arm draped over the back; there was no indication of pain or discomfort, as far as his partner could see, and his eyes were dancing above a warm and relieved smile. Mike was no longer sporting the head bandage and the hair had begun to grow back over his left ear where it had been shaved for the stitches. And the cast was gone from his left forearm. He took the fedora off as he crossed to the sofa, lowering himself slowly to sit beside his best friend, unable to mask his own relieved smile as he set the hat on the coffee table then dropped his right hand on the younger man’s knee and squeezing. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, both grinning, then Mike patted Steve’s knee and looked up at the two sergeants, who were watching them from the front door with matching smiles.

“So, ah,” Haseejian chuckled self-consciously, “ah, can I get you a cup of coffee, Mike?”

The older man’s eyes snapped briefly to the mugs already sitting on the coffee table and nodded. “Sure, yeah, thanks, Norm.”

“You got it.” Gathering his partner with a nod, Haseejian and Healey disappeared into the kitchen.

Mike looked back at the younger man beside him. “You look a lot better.”

Steve chuckled warmly. “I feel a lot better. Don’t need a pillow anymore. But, like I said, I still can’t handle the hills around here yet so I don’t know when the doctors are gonna clear me to get back to work.”“I told you not to worry about that. It’s only been a week and we were told it’d probably be a month before we were cleared to return to duty, so don’t push it, okay? I don’t want that old ‘one step forward, two steps back’ thing to happen to either of us. I want us both back to work at a hundred percent, okay?”

His smile wavering, Steve nodded sombrely. “Yeah, you’re right.” He reached up and, resting his right fingers lightly on Mike’s chin, turned his head to the left. “You can barely see the laceration now that they took the stitches out and your hair’s growing back in.”

Mike smiled, pulling his head away from the gentle touch, and chuckled. “Good. I don’t want Jeannie suspecting a thing.”

“Here ya go,” Haseejian announced as he re-entered the living room with two mugs in his hands, crossing carefully to the coffee table to set them both down. Healey was following with a kitchen chair, which he put down at the opposite end of the coffee table and sat. Haseejian slipped into the armchair near Steve and picked up one of the cups that was already there. He held the mug up in a quasi-salute. “It’s good to see both of you guys. You’re looking good, Mike.”

Chuckling, Mike leaned forward to pick up his cup and held it up. “I feel good, Norm.” His eyes flicked briefly towards Healey. “Sandra made sure I followed doctors orders to a ’T’.”

“Oh yeah,” Healey laughed knowingly, taking a sip of his coffee. “She’s good at that.”

Mike nodded in agreement, chuckling, and met Steve’s eyes briefly. The younger man masked a knowing smile behind his own cup as he picked it up and took a quick, diverting sip. 

“So,” the lieutenant said pointedly, settling back on the couch with his hands, wrapped around the hot mug, in his lap, “what’s happening in our case?”

The sergeants looked at each other then Healey took a deep breath. “Well, after we interviewed both of you,” he gestured towards the couch with his mug, “we were able to get a better picture of what happened, of course.”

Mike and Steve exchanged a brief and brow-furrowed glance. Though they had spoken, on the record, to their colleagues about that night in the bodega, they had not had the opportunity to speak to each other, not wanting to do so over the phone.

Knowing that they would get that opportunity in just a little while, Mike asked, “So has the lab come up with anything?”

Haseejian smiled. “Oh yeah, and I’ll get to that, but let me get you up to speed on everything else first, okay?” He stared at his lieutenant with raised eyebrows and, after a long beat, Mike nodded. “Good. So Gerry signed search warrants for us and we tore the bodega and the Steiner house apart. We also interviewed all the women in ‘Brother Samuel’s’… coven…” he chuckled derisively and beside him Healey snorted, shaking his head as he looked down and took a sip of his coffee.

The two men on the couch frowned. “And?” Steve asked.

Healey looked up. “Well, unless they are Academy Award-winning actresses, those women know nothing about what Sykes and his sister were up to.”

Mike frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Healey explained, “Benjamin Sykes is no Charles Manson with his cult of murderous sycophants. Sykes’ women look at him like a saviour… Lenny explained it as like that Stockholm syndrome thing, you know…”

Mike frowned. “Stockholm syndrome?” He looked at his partner. “What the hell is that?”

Steve was nodding slowly, his gaze turned briefly inward. He held up an index finger towards Mike, stalling him, and leaned forward slightly, his brow deeply furrowed. “Why does he think that?”

“Well, to a person, all the women spoke about Sykes as… as saving them from a life on the street, from a life of homelessness and abuse. And from what they all said, they had a good life with him. He didn’t touch them, in anger or in any other way, and in return all he seemed to expect from them was loyalty… ‘fealty’ as they called it.” Healey eyes snapped to Mike. “Oh, by the way, one of the women definitely is Margaret Tolliver… you were right.”

Mike’s frown deepened. “Has Lenny talked to her?”

Both sergeants nodded. “He’s talked to all of them already,” Haseejian responded, “but just preliminarily, he told us. He wants to wait till we think we have everything we can uncover and then he’s going to interview them again. He wants them to spend some time without Sykes in their lives and maybe they’ll… I don’t know, loosen up more… or come back to Planet Earth, who knows?” He shrugged with a dry chuckle.

“You haven’t arrested them, have you?” Mike sounded genuinely concerned.

Healey shook his head vigorously. “No no no. We have nothing on them. As far as we know right now, they had nothing to do with the murders and didn’t know anything about them.”

“So what did Tolliver say about the murder of Drabinsky?”

It was Haseejian’s turn to shake his head. “Well, in the first and only interview we’ve done with her, she said she doesn’t know anything about it, but we haven’t had a chance to ask her again. We’re taking Lenny’s lead and giving her time to adjust to life without her ‘Brother Samuel’, then we’ll interview her again.”

Mike nodded, his brow furrowed and his gaze unfocused, then his eyes snapped to Haseejian’s. “Where are the women living right now?”

The sergeants shared a quick look once again. “Ah, the crime lab boys went through the Steiner house with a fine-toothed comb for two days. And they didn’t find anything. So, ah, so Olsen and Conden told us to let the women stay there.” Haseejian cringed slightly, waiting for the explosion he knew would be coming.

“What?!” Mike’s wide, surprised eyes snapped from one sergeant to the other as he leaned forward sharply and slammed his coffee cup on the table as if for emphasis. “They’re still in the house?!”

Healey shrugged, bobbling his head. “Look, Mike, we didn’t think it was a good idea either, but the house was almost torn apart by the crime boys and, like I said, they found nothing.”

“They photographed everything, believe me,” Haseejian added quickly, and Healey nodded.

“And we’d put the women into the Washington Hotel for a couple of nights, two to a room, but Conden complained that, well, that it was gonna get expensive… and because of the budget cuts, well…” Haseejian sucked in a breath and shrugged again, his entire hangdog face pleading with his lieutenant for understanding. “It was Conden’s decision, not ours, Mike, believe me…”

After a long couple of seconds, the frowning senior officer’s narrowed stare sliding from one beseeching expression to the other, Mike finally nodded. “Yeah, I understand…” He sighed heavily and pointedly, making sure his displeasure was noted.

Steve looked at his colleagues with a soft smile and subtly bobbed his eyebrows, letting them know he felt their pain.

With a snort, Mike’s attention shifted to Healey. “You said they tore the bodega apart too, right?” The sergeant nodded. “Other than the baseball bat, what did they find?”

Relieved that the subject had been changed, Healey leaned forward, putting his cup on the coffee table. “Believe it or not, that’s all they found. There’s no sign of a knife, the kind of knife they think killed our victims, in either place. We’re still looking.”

“So what about the baseball bat?” Steve asked. “Is it the murder weapon, do they think?”

Healey nodded. “Oh, yeah. They found three different blood types on it, matching the blood types of our three known victims. But, as Charlie said, there could be blood on that bat from other victims as well. Victims with the same blood types as the ones we already know about. We just have no way to tell.”

Haseejian was nodding slowly and he looked up and met Mike’s eyes. “The, ah, the desk leg that Stayner was going to use on Steve…?” he started quietly. “It had blood on it already…. We’re, ah, we’re pretty sure it was yours…” 

Mike stared at him expressionlessly for a beat then nodded softly with a heavy sigh. “Yeah…” He looked down at his left wrist. “That damn cast saved my life,” he mumbled softly and felt Steve’s hand on his back and a soft pat. He looked up and cleared his throat. “So, ah, so Sykes and Stayner have only been charged with assault so far, right?” It was obvious to the others he wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible.

Haseejian nodded. “So far. There’s no rush on the other charges, Gerry said, and he’s right, of course. So we’re taking it slowly and thoroughly. There’s no statue of limitations, right, so…?”

“Yeah…” Mike agreed softly. “I don’t want them getting off on a technicality because we rushed this one.” An eerie but companionable silence fell over the room. Suddenly Mike’s head came up and stared at his partner. “What’s this Stockholm syndrome thing you were talking about?”

Steve glanced at Haseejian and smiled. The sergeant, with his own grin, leaned forward and picked up Mike’s cup. “Here, let me refresh this,” he chuckled as he got to his feet, gathering his partner with a look.

Healey, after a beat, stood, taking Steve’s cup as he did so, and they disappeared into the kitchen. They knew Mike and Steve still hadn’t talked to each other about the events of the night in the bodega, and this seemed like a good opportunity to get them started. They could hear Steve explaining Stockholm syndrome to his partner as they poured the cold coffee into the sink and Healey started to refill the percolator.


	76. Chapter 76

“Hunh, so that’s what Stockholm syndrome is…” Mike was staring into the void somewhere between the coffee table and the TV, frowning slightly, his lips pursed. He snorted a chuckle as he turned to the young man sitting beside him. “Well, it’s a good thing one of us keeps up to date on that kinda thing.” He reached out and patted Steve’s knee again.

Laughing softly, Steve shook his head in affectionate despair. He inhaled deeply and carefully, well aware that he still couldn’t take a full pain-free breath as yet but not wanting his partner to notice. “So, ah, do you think that’s what maybe happened with Sykes’… women?” he asked, still not sure, like the others, what to call Brother Samuels’ followers. Even after all this time they still hadn’t settled on a term that satisfied everyone… or anyone, for that matter.

Dropping both hands in his lap and staring at the coffee table, Mike raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. He shrugged slightly. “Who knows, but it sorta does sound like it, doesn’t it?” He fell silent for a long beat. “If it’s true, it almost makes me feel sorry for them.” He turned his head slightly. “What do you think?”

Steve made a face, looking down, and he shook his head slightly. “Well, it would explain a lot, wouldn’t it? I mean, if they really didn’t have anything to do with the murders, and they didn’t even know about them… which is the way things are pointing right now, according to Norm and Dan… well, what other way is there to explain it…?”

Looking into space again, Mike nodded slowly. “Yeah. But what I want to know is… why does he have these women… following him to begin with? I mean, if he’s not… having his way with them… sexually… or he’s not abusing them in some other way…. Well, then, what kind of hold does he have over them?”

“Well, that’s what the Stockholm syndrome is all about. Making people believe that… that a new reality, even one that’s… detrimental to them… is the only one they can believe in…”

There was a brief silence as they both mulled this concept over then Mike looked at his partner again. “That’s kinda scary when you think about it, isn’t it? Being able to control peoples minds like that…. I guess we’re lucky it’s only small groups of people that seem to be… under a spell like that.”

Steve snorted. “Well, that’s not really true, is it?” He looked at the older man and raised his eyebrows. “How do you explain what happened in Germany under the Nazis?”

Mike’s eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. “Oh, jeez, you’re right.” He looked back down at the table again. “Goddamn it.”

Another silence fell over the room as they let the weight of the revelation settle over them.

“Here we go,” Haseejian announced as he led Healey back into the living room, both of them carrying two cups of steaming fresh coffee. As he handed one of the mugs to Steve before settling back into the armchair, he glanced at Mike. “So, ah, just so you know, Lenny is chomping at the bit to interview Brother Samuel’s women at length. He wants to find out what makes them tick, why they followed this guy, you know… what kind of hold he had - still has, probably - over these women.” He glanced at Healey and chuckled. “I think he has visions of a book somewhere in his future.”

Healey rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his own coffee, once more back on the kitchen chair.

“You mean like that new book that just came out about the Manson Family?” Steve asked, looking from one sergeant to the other. “‘Helter Skelter’?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Healey laughed and Steve nodded knowingly.

Frowning in confusion, Mike was looking from one to the other, his stare finally settling on Steve. “Like I said, it’s a good thing one of us keeps up.” The other three laughed. 

Haseejian settled back in the armchair. He gestured towards Mike with his cup. “So, did Steve tell you about his little… escapade at the bodega that night?”

His brows knitting slowly, Mike’s head swivelled deliberately in his partner’s direction. “Escapade?”

After throwing a visual dagger in Haseejian’s direction, Steve tried to hide behind his mug, taking a long sip and avoiding the intense blue eyes boring a hole into the side of his head.

Getting no response, Mike’s eyes flicked towards Haseejian. “No… he didn’t.”

After an uncomfortably long second, Healey cleared his throat demonstrably. “Ah, Norm, I’d, ah, I’d like to step outside for a smoke. Why don’t you join me?” He was staring at his partner pointedly. Haseejian, on the other hand, was looking from Mike to Steve and back again with a gleeful grin. Healey cleared his throat again. “Norm!”

Haseejian’s head jerked slightly. “What?”

“Join me outside, will you?” Healey reiterated loudly, starting to get to his feet, taking his coffee cup with him.

The Armenian sergeant glanced at him, obviously annoyed, then froze briefly. Suddenly his eyes widened. “Oh….” He looked at Mike and Steve sheepishly. “Oh, ah, yeah, sure…” He scrambled to his feet, grabbing his cup and following his partner to the door. Healey held it open as Haseejian brushed past him, then threw an apologetic glance at the two men on the couch as he followed, closing the door behind him.

Mike turned slowly to look at the young man beside him again. “Since when did Dan start smoking?” he asked deadpan.

Steve snorted a laugh, shaking his head.

The older man chuckled, then slid to his left, a little further away, so he could turn and face his partner more comfortably. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “So… what’s this little… escapade you have to tell me about?”

Steve stared at him for a long beat then sighed. “Look, ah, I have a feeling my… story is a little longer than yours.” He smiled. “Did you have a suspicion about Carol Stayner when you went looking for that baseball bat?”

It was Mike’s turn to snort, the question catching him by surprise. “Ah, no…. No, I was just looking for nails.”

“Nails?”

The older man nodded. “Yeah. Neil and I were doing really well putting those desks together, but we ran outa nails. We knew we were gonna have to go back the next day to finish up but things would be closed, of course, it being Sunday, so Neil said he knew a store nearby that sold them. So while he went out, I decided to check upstairs on the second floor.”

“Carol wasn’t there?”

Mike shook his head. “No, she’d gone out - to make a phone call or run some errands, I’m not sure. I just knew she wasn’t there.” He paused and stared at the younger man, his brows knitting. “I had no idea, I really didn’t. I was up in the office, looking at the school supplies on the shelves, looking for nails, and I noticed the closet door was open. There were boxes on the top shelf and on the floor and some clothes hanging from the crossbar.” He chuckled dryly. “The light was abysmal - there was only daylight coming in from the window, and I was just about to leave when I saw the knob of a bat.” He was staring into space; he paused and bit his bottom lip. “It was like a lightbulb went off. I could feel my heart start to pound…” He snorted quietly, a soft smile curling his lips. “I used my handkerchief to pick it up and I took a step back so I could see the head of the bat in the light… I thought I could see blood but it was so dim I wasn’t sure…” He paused and took a deep breath. “I put it back, exactly where I found it, and I started to back out of the closet… and I heard a sound…” He shrugged slightly. “I’m not even sure what it was, maybe a footstep on the carpet, I don’t know, but I know I turned my head just enough to see something coming towards me and I got my arm up…” He shrugged again, pursing his lips. “I don’t remember anything after that, until those flashlights in my face when you found me…” He looked at his partner with a small but warm and grateful smile. 

Steve smiled back. “Thank god for that cast, hunh?”

Mike chuckled dryly. “Oh yeah…. the damn thing saved my life.” He looked down at his left forearm, now unencumbered. After a couple of long seconds, he raised his head and let the blue-eyed stare pin the young man where he sat. “So that’s my story, what’s yours?”

Steve smiled. “Mine? Well, mine’s a little more convoluted, I guess.” He raised his cup to his lips and took a big sip, then nodded at his partner’s mug. “Ah, you might want to drink that before it gets cold,” he chuckled.

With a benevolent scowl, Mike picked up his cup and took a sip, then settled into the corner of the couch, bringing his right knee up onto the cushion and cradling the mug in both hands as he waited for the story-telling to begin.

Steve laughed. “Comfortable?”

Mike smiled smugly. “Very.” He nodded once, deeply, as if giving the younger man permission to begin.

Steve chuckled again, then shifted on the couch, settling in a little more himself. “Well, like you I had no idea that Carol Stayner was involved in the Brother Samuel thing at all. But the FBI report had come in and I brought it home in case I had some time to start going through it. And I did. And that’s when I saw that Benjamin Sykes had a sister named Carol, who married and divorced a guy named Stayner.”

“Another one of those lightbulb moments, hunh?”

“It was a whole goddamn chandelier,” Steve said with a mirthless laugh, shaking his head in wonder. “And I don’t know if I was more shocked or… worried. I knew you were with her and I, ah…. Well, I called you, your house, and when there was no answer, well, I, ah…” He paused and looked down, exhaling loudly. “Anyway, I hightailed it over to the bodega -“

“You went alone?” Mike interrupted, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.

Steve froze briefly, meeting the intense blue eyes for a silent beat before he nodded. “Look, I wasn’t sure if you were still there or if you were on your way home… and I wasn’t even sure of the exact address. I mean, I knew where it was but I didn’t know the address and if I called it in and it turned out everything was fine and you were on your way home, and then everybody arrived lights and sirens, then we’d’ve tipped our hand and Brother Samuel and his… entourage would disappear and we’d have blown our case altogether.” He stared at his partner as if daring the older man to contradict him.

Mike glared back for several long beats then nodded slowly. “What did you do when you got there?”

Steve relaxed slightly. “Well, the first thing I noticed was the place was dark and it looked deserted. I checked the door after I parked and the place seemed empty, and I was heading for a payphone to give your place another call in case you’d gotten home when I found your car.” He paused, a tiny smile playing over his lips. “I checked out the local restaurants in case you and Neil were having dinner somewhere nearby but that turned out to be a bust…” He paused once more and looked down. He took a deep breath. 

“Something didn’t feel right,” he started again after a long silent beat. “In my gut… something didn’t feel right. I knew you were in trouble… and I knew I was the only one who could find you.”


	77. Chapter 77

Mike stared at the top of his partner’s downturned head for several long silent seconds as the implications of the words just spoken hung in the air. Not trusting his voice, he prompted quietly, “So what did you do next?”

Steve looked up slowly, his eyes haunted, as if he was reliving the worry and anxiety that had been coursing through his mind and body that night. He swallowed heavily. “I, ah… well, I knew I couldn’t get through the front door, unless I broke the glass - and that was counter-productive. My goal was to get into the building silently in case… well, in case Carol was still in there… with you…” He shrugged slightly, a sad and guilty smile briefly flashing across his face. 

The older man stared back expressionlessly, struggling to remain neutral, silently giving his young partner permission to tell the story in his own time and in his own way. He allowed himself a barely perceptible nod and watched as Steve’s lips formed a taut line as he blinked slowly in acknowledgement.

“There’s an alley behind the bodega… I figured I could maybe get in from that way, maybe through a window on the second floor if there was access.”

Mike remembered hearing something about a ladder but he said nothing, partly because he wanted Steve to continue uninterrupted, and partly to see if his partner would be completely honest with him. 

“There were windows - small windows that could be opened - on either side of the picture window in the living room but there was no way I could get up there. So I took a walk further down the alley and managed to find an old wooden ladder.” He smiled briefly, still somewhat in awe of his good luck.

Mike’s eyes softened and the corners of his mouth curled; inside, he relaxed as a wave of pride and relief washed over him. “A ladder?” he managed to echo without his voice cracking.

The younger man nodded. “Yeah, an old extension ladder. Who’da thought, right?” He chuckled ironically. “And I even managed to carry it down the alley without hitting anything and without my back seizing up…” He had looked down, squirming slightly under the intense scrutiny, and now looked up guiltily into the very concerned blue eyes staring at him. He tried to smile reassuringly. “It didn’t, by the way,” he added hastily, “it didn’t hurt me at all.” The stare didn’t waver. “Anyway, I managed to get it up against the wall without alerting any of the neighbors, thank god, and my luck held as the window wasn’t locked. I managed to get it open wide enough to crawl in without making too much noise.”

“Did you have a flashlight?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I’d gone back to the car and got the one out of the glove box. I remembered how dark it was that one time we went up there with her…” He smiled perfunctorily then continued. “There was nobody in there. The place was deserted, and I was moving from room to room… looking for you,” he cleared his throat softly, looking down, “or some sign that you were still there. I couldn’t find anything.” After a brief pause, he looked up. “I saw the closet, and the lock, but it didn’t register with me… at least not then…”

He sounded almost apologetic, and Mike smiled softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch him, to make the physical connection that would let the young man know he had nothing to regret.

“So, ah,” Steve continued, his voice a little stronger, “I had worked my way to the bedroom opposite the kitchen when I heard what I thought was the front door opening downstairs.” He looked at his partner and raised his eyebrows. “It was. I guess from what Watson and Kendall said, Carol had gone to get her brother ‘cause she didn’t know what to do with you.” He looked at Mike for a long beat, debating whether or not to tell him what had happened next. Then he looked down and snorted softly. “She fought for you,” he said softly then paused again.

“What?” Mike asked quietly.

The green eyes rose slowly to meet the blue ones. “Carol. She fought for you… with her brother. She told him you were a nice man and she liked you.”

“What did he say?” 

“He said she should’ve thought of that before she hit you, and that they didn’t have a choice anymore.”

Mike looked down at the coffee cup in his hands, and he nodded gently. “So where were you hiding?”

“Well, there weren’t too many places, and I never had the chance to get back to the ladder and get out of there. Besides,” he said with a soft smile, “I knew you were there somewhere… and that they were going to kill you…” His smile got a little wider and he shrugged. “What choice did I have?” 

Mike stared at him for a long unmoving beat before looking down again, blinking quickly. Then he swallowed self-consciously.

Steve chuckled softly and wryly. “Anyway, ah, I was hiding behind the door in that first bedroom. I was hoping they would overlook me until I could get the drop on them… but I made a mistake…”

The older man’s head snapped up and he frowned. 

“I left the window open,” Steve shrugged. “In the living room. Sykes sent her in there to get a large tarp they’d stored there and she saw it… and the ladder, I’m assuming… and the jig was up.” He tried a guilty, apologetic smile but wasn’t entirely successful. “After that it was only going to be a matter of time till they found me… and it was…” With another soft shrug, he stared at his partner with a genial inevitability written all over his face, as if the rest of the story really didn’t need to be put into words.

Mike waited just the right amount of time before he asked matter-of-factly, “Why was your gun found in another room?”

Steve’s face fell. “What?”

“Rudy told me that your gun was found in another room. Didn’t you try to use it, or was it knocked out of your hand before you had the chance?”

This was another test of trust and honesty, and both men knew it. Steve stared at his partner without expression, this man whom he had grown to love and respect more than anyone else, a man he would give his life for, and a man he knew would do the same for him.

After several long seconds, he dropped his eyes and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “It fell out. I’d unsnapped my holster but didn’t take it out. I didn’t want to…. I honestly thought I could subdue him without having to resort to … deadly force…” He looked up and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “I guess I was wrong…”

“He almost killed you…” Mike offered quietly.

“I know…”

“If Watson and Kendall hadn’t gotten there when they did -“

“I know,” Steve interrupted more forcefully and Mike paused, staring at the younger man without blinking, not knowing if he was more angry at the mistake or relieved by the outcome.

“They would’ve killed you,” he continued, trying to control the tremor in his voice, “and then they would’ve killed me…”

“I know…” It was a very soft whisper.

Mike let the silence settle for several long seconds. He exhaled loudly before he asked, “Why didn’t you want to use your gun?”

Steve dropped his gaze again, staring at the couch cushion for a long beat before he took a deep breath. “I don’t know… it just didn’t feel… appropriate…”

“Appropriate? You were trapped in a building with two people you knew had killed at least three others.” Mike’s voice was eerily calm and even.

Steve nodded softly. “I know…” He took another deep breath, trying to put himself back in the bedroom, back into the dark and terrifying situation on the upper floor of the abandoned bodega. He raised his eyes and looked into the blue ones that seemed a lot more understanding than he had anticipated. “It was so dark… and I didn’t want to fire indiscriminately and just hope I hit someone…. I didn’t want to kill someone if I didn’t have to…” He looked down again and took another deep and pointed breath, as if hoping his feeble explanation would be enough to satisfy the man sitting on the other end of the couch.

After what seemed like the appropriate amount of time, Mike asked quietly, “Is this going to be a problem from now on?”

Steve’s head snapped up, his eyes betraying his flush of anger, but the face staring back at him was warm and empathetic. The back of his throat tightened and he tried to swallow past the lump. He shook his head slightly. “No, I don’t think so -“

“Do you think you should talk to Lenny?”

The head shake got a little more animated. “No. No, I don’t think so…”

Mike stared at him for a long beat then nodded once; he didn’t look completely convinced. 

The younger man stared back; an acknowledging smile began to build. “Don’t worry,” he said softly, “I’m not going to let anything happen to me… and I’m definitely not going to let anything happen to you…”

Suddenly self-conscious, Mike looked down at the coffee cup in his hands. After a long beat, he raised the cup to his lips and was about to take a sip when he stopped abruptly. “Oh, yuck…” he chuckled, pulling the offending mug away from his mouth, “it’s cold as ice.” He looked across the couch at Steve’s untouched cup on the coffee table. “Here, give me yours and I’ll get us a refill while you let Norm and Dan in.” He chuckled as he got to his feet, reaching for the other cup as Steve held it out. “They must be half-frozen out there tonight.”

Laughing, Steve got to his feet. As Mike disappeared into the kitchen, he headed towards the front door. He pulled the large wooden door open on the two sergeants huddled together on the top step, their collars up against the brisk wind blowing in off the Bay.

“Finally!” Haseejian huffed as he got stiffly to his feet, his teeth chattering as he bulled his way past Steve, his empty coffee cup clenched in both hands. 

Healey glanced at the young inspector as he stepped into the apartment. “It’s, ah, it’s a little cold out there tonight,” he stated flatly, punctuating his comment with raised eyebrows and a facial shrug.

Steve closed the door, trying to mask his smile. Mike was standing in the kitchen doorway, the percolator in his hand. “You guys want a fresh cup?” His dancing eyes were bouncing from one obviously frigid sergeant to the other, not even trying to hide his grin.

“Is it hot?” Haseejian growled, moving closer, his cup in his extended hands.

“Piping.”

The Armenian sergeant thrust the mug closer to the lieutenant, who threw an amused glance at his partner before he started pouring. “Here you go.”

Healey was looking from one partner to the other, trying to gauge how the heart-to-heart had gone; from what he could tell, things seemed fine, and he allowed himself to relax. He took the few steps closer to Mike and held out his cup, meeting the lieutenant’s brief glance with a smile.

Steve wandered back to the couch and sat. “Hey, Dan, you guys did some follow-up work at the bodega, right?”

Healey, on his way into the kitchen to add milk and sugar to his cup, stopped at the door and turned back. “Yeah. Why?”

“Do you now what happened to the ladder?”

Healey froze briefly, frowning, and glanced at his partner before both of them looked at Steve. “The what?”

“The ladder.” Steve looked at Mike, who was still standing in the kitchen doorway with the percolator in his hand. “I just want to know if the poor guy I… ‘borrowed’ it from got it back?”

As Haseejian and Healey looked back and forth between the partners with confused frowns, Mike nodded with a facial shrug and re-entered the kitchen. “Makes sense to me.”


	78. Chapter 78

He tossed the folded sports section on the sofa beside him and got slowly to his feet, picking up his empty coffee cup as he crossed towards the kitchen. He resisted the urge to look at his watch, not wanting to know how much time was left until dinner, was left in the day. He was really beginning to chafe under the restrictions that had been placed on him by his bosses and his doctors. He was convinced he had recovered enough to return to a normal life, if not to work; everyone else seemed to think otherwise.

He had just put the cup on the counter and was reaching for the percolator when there was a persistently loud knock on his front door, accompanied by the doorbell being rung over and over. With a very annoyed scowl, he started briskly towards the entrance. “I’m coming!’ he bellowed at the top of his lungs as he snapped the thumb turn, twisted the knob and reefed the door open all in one angry movement.

He froze when he saw his grinning partner standing on the stoop, staring at him with bobbing eyebrows behind the dark glasses. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed?” the younger man asked with a chuckle.

His eyes narrowing suspiciously, Mike tilted his head slightly. “What are you doing here?”

Steve’s face fell and he grunted. “Well, if that’s the way you’re going to be about it…” he began snarkily as he pretended to start away.

Mike’s right hand shot out and he grabbed his partner’s leather jacket sleeve. “Wait, don’t go,” he said quickly. Steve stopped and looked at him expressionlessly. “I just meant… well, what are you doing here?” His tone this time was a lot more conciliatory. Though they had spoken on the phone a couple of times, they hadn’t seen each other since their meeting with Healey and Haseejian at the Union Street apartment three days earlier.

Steve started to smile again. “Well, I thought you might want to join me and go for a little drive on this…” he gestured towards the street, “this gorgeous afternoon. What do you say?”

Mike stared at him for a beat then looked down at the street and the Porsche parked against the curb on the other side. “In your car?”

The younger man shrugged. “Why not? I was thinking of maybe taking it down towards Pacifica, take a walk along Mori Point… you know, give the car a good run and allow us to get some fresh air…”

“Some fresh air, hunh?”

Steve nodded.

Mike pursed his lips, his face unreadable, then he smiled resignedly. “Why not? I’ve been cooped up in this place long enough. Just let me get my windbreaker.” He turned back into the house.

Steve took a step closer to the threshold. “Sandra not given you your car keys back yet?”

Mike reappeared with his coat and house keys in his hand, pulling the door closed behind him as he stepped onto the landing. “No,” he said pointedly as he locked the door and followed his chuckling partner down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. “She promised tomorrow but I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Mike settled into the low-slung sports car with a grunt and a smile; he had spent the past several days taking walks up and down the hills of his Potrero neighbourhood, but this felt like an adventure, and one he sorely needed.

“Mori Point shouldn’t be very crowded today,” Steve mentioned as he slipped the key into the ignition and turned the engine over. “Middle of the week and all that.”

“Well, you couldn’t’ve picked a prettier day,” Mike noted, glancing up at the bright blue sky.

The Porsche slid smoothly away from the curb and started down De Haro heading north.

“How are you feeling?” the older man asked with a glance across the front seat.

Steve grinned. “Better every day. I almost feel like I could go back to work, you know.”

Mike chuckled. “Me too. But somehow I don’t think either one of us are going to be allowed to step foot back in Homicide until our month is up, no matter what we say.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re right. I’m gonna take full advantage of it, though.” He glanced across the front seat. “I’m gonna take Jennifer up to Sonoma next week for four or five days, do a wine tour.”

“That sounds like a great idea. It’s harvest time; your timing couldn’t be better.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

“I just might have to get you to buy a case of Jeannie’s favourite Riesling for Christmas.” Mike twisted in the seat to look over his shoulder. “Just how much cargo can this little thing hold, anyway?”

Steve chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry - it can hold a couple of cases of wine… as well as our luggage.”

Laughing softly, Mike settled deeper in the bucket seat. He stared out the side window, watching the world go by for several long seconds before he started to frown. “I thought you said we were heading south?”

“Hmmm?” Steve grunted, as if pretending not to hear.

Mike looked at him, frowning. He pointed out the side window. “You missed the on-ramp for the 101. Where are we going?”

Steve unsuccessfully tried to suppress his smile as he stared straight ahead, ignoring his partner’s question. After a long beat, he said enigmatically, “You’ll see.”

Mike continued to stare but, receiving no response, slumped in the seat and, frowning, looked through the windshield, trying to figure out where they were headed.

When they started to approach the Haight, Mike thought his suspicions were about to be confirmed as they neared the bodega. But when the Porsche didn’t make the appropriate turn, he frowned again, shooting a confused glance across the front seat. Steve was still smiling, and still concentrating on the view through the windshield.

Steve snapped the turn signal on and the sports car made a right-hand turn onto Masonic Avenue, heading north. They drove right through the Haight towards the Panhandle then, after a couple more turns, slid into a free parking space at the curb on Hayes. He glanced across the front seat, trying to suppress a grin, as he turned the engine off and slipped the key from the ignition. Mike, frowning in confusion, was staring out the side window, trying to figure out why they were here.

Steve opened the door and got out, then leaned back in. “Are you coming?” He slammed the door and locked it.

Mike shot him a look as he reached for the door handle and climbed awkwardly out of the eye-catching sports car. As he shrugged his windbreaker on, he looked up and down the street. “What are we doing here?”

Steve locked the passenger side door and put the keys in his jacket pocket then, trying not to chuckle, started up the street; Mike was still looking around, hoping to see something that would help him figure out what was going on. “Coming?”

With a low growl, Mike jogged slightly to catch up with the younger man, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any clues as to the reason for their visit to this part of town.

They walked to the corner of the block. Mike stepped to the curb to wait for the light to change but Steve made an abrupt right turn and approached the glass front door of the building on the corner; an abandoned and empty restaurant, its windows covered with newspaper. As he pulled the door open, he looked back and grinned. Frowning warily, Mike approached his partner and the open door. 

“They had to move,” Steve said with a warm chuckle. “After everything that happened at the bodega, well, the school couldn’t stay there. They had no place to go. But, ah, well, somehow a couple of… influential social activists in the neighborhood caught wind of what was going on… and they talked to some people with clout down at City Hall… and some wheels began to turn.” He gestured towards the open door, and Mike stared at him curiously as he slowly moved past him and entered the building. “It’s, ah, it’s not open yet,” Steve continued as he stepped beside his partner, taking of his dark glasses to look at the scene in front of them, “but they’re working on it… as you can see.”

It was a large open room, a former diner whose counters had been removed to free up more space. A large blackboard covered the opening where the order window had been. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air. The cracked and worn linoleum floor was being torn up and piles of new tiles were scattered around the room. In the far corner, the desks were stacked, as were several small wooden chairs.

Mike stared, his eyes wide, his expression unreadable. He swivelled his head slowly as his trained eyes took in everything.

There was a flurry of activity from the unseen kitchen and a couple of people, who had obviously been painting, came through the door into the main room, stopping suddenly when they spotted the newcomers. Steve looked sideways at his partner as Mike recognized Neil and the older man exhaled quickly in surprise.

His face breaking into a grin, Neil almost charged across the room. “Holy hell, am I glad to see you,” he laughed, his relief palpable as he approached the older detective, throwing his arms open and grabbing Mike in a bear hug. 

The cop, who had braced himself, wrapped his own arms around the barrel chested man and squeezed. Steve looked down and took a couple of discreet steps back.

Neil pulled back slightly and stared into Mike’s face. “Are you okay? Man, I heard what happened. I couldn’t believe it.”

Mike was nodding and smiling. “Yeah, yeah, I”m fine, really. Like I keep telling Steve,” he glanced at the younger man, “I have a hard head.”

Neil, who continued to stare and shake his head slightly, dropped his arms and took a step back, looking Mike up and down to make sure he was telling the truth. “Man, what a thing, eh? Who’da thought Carol’d be the one doing all that shit…?”

Mike tilted his head with a facial shrug. “Well, we still have to prove it to a jury but yeah…”

“Yeah… but, man, she coulda killed you, you know?” He looked into Mike’s eyes, his own almost guilty, and shrugged helplessly. “I should never have left that night but she told me you’d gone so, you know, I didn’t think twice. I took her word for it.”

Mike was shaking his head. “It’s not your fault, Neil, believe me. She’s smooth, she’s a good liar…”

“She sure is…” Both men fell quiet, contemplating what might have happened that night. 

Neil stared at Mike again. “I’m glad you’re -“ he began awkwardly and Mike cut him off, gesturing at the room.

“So tell me what’s going on here,” he said with a smile, taking a step deeper into the room.

Neil glanced at Steve, who smiled at him encouragingly, then fell into step beside the older man as they started slowly across the floor under repair.

Steve stayed near the door, watching the two men who had formed such a strong bond in such a short time, and who now shared a connection that neither of them could have foreseen. He smiled to himself; their trip to Pacifica would have to wait for another day, he thought. But he really didn’t mind.


	79. Chapter 79

“So who’s responsible for all this?” Mike asked when Neil had finished his little tour of the new facilities and they were now sitting awkwardly in three of the tiny elementary school chairs they had liberated from the tall stack near the back wall.

“Well,” Neil began, chuckling, “a lot of people, I can tell you that, but the man who cut the red tape for us with City Hall - mainly by just being a persistent bastard - is a guy who’s getting to be quite a mouthpiece for the gays in The Castro. His name’s Harvey Milk. He ran for a Supervisor seat in ’73 but he lost. He’s gonna run again, I’m sure of that.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Steve offered and the two older men looked at him. “He’s really become a voice in the gay community, that’s for sure.” He looked at his partner and raised his eyebrows. “I think he’s gonna be a real mover-and-shaker in The City in the next few years.”

Mike made a face and shook his head. “I haven’t heard of him.”

Neil chuckled. “Oh, you will, believe me. He’s become a real advocate for the disenfranchised around here. And like I said, he’s the one that paved the way for all this.”

“So what’s the goal here?” Steve asked, gesturing around the large room.

“Well, the ladies who were the teachers with Carol Stayner… well, they’re the ones still doing this. They had no idea what was going on with her and her brother, of course… they just wanted to teach. So they’re still involved with all this. They’re the driving force, actually. And all the suppliers and restaurants that we had lined up already? Well, they’re hanging in with us, and there’s talk of them expanding their contributions.” He chuckled. “Now there’s a move to try to get some of these kids into real schools, but because most of them have ‘no fixed address’, of course, that’s not easy. But there’re people out there that are trying, believe me.”

“Well, that’d be good, wouldn’t it?” Mike asked.

“Sure it would… but there’s a lot of homeless people… mothers mostly… who don’t trust… well, ‘the system’, as they call it. A lot of people, especially women, had a bad experience in school… bullying… harassment… sexual abuse, that kind of thing, you know? And they’re not too… enthusiastic about putting their kids in a school run by the city.”

Mike shared a quick glance with his partner, frowning. “I guess I never thought about that.”

Neil smiled wistfully. “Well, why would you, right? I mean, you probably had a good time at school, and your daughter too. Why would that thought have even crossed your mind?”

The older detective pursed his lips. “You’re right… it didn’t…”

“Anyway, Milk managed to get across to the Supervisors that there are a number of homeless kids out here that really could use some… ‘informal’ formal schooling, as he called it. And said this place would be a great stop-gap in helping these kids get at least some kind of learning… mostly with regards to literacy.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Steve agreed with a slow nod.

Neil smiled. “Yeah, well, that’s what Milk grabbed onto to make his case. And it worked… with one caveat.”

Mike frowned. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

Neil’s smile turned into a broad grin. “Well, let’s just say we’re going to open with a bigger mandate. We’re now going to be teaching anyone to read and write.”

The two detectives frowned, smiling in confusion.

“Do you mean you’re going to be teaching literacy to adults?” Steve asked.

The veteran turned political activist nodded. “You have no idea how many of the… the indigent out there are living on the street because they can’t read or write. They either never got a chance because they never went to school or didn’t go to school long enough, or they have some kind of… of handicap, like they can’t see properly and it was never diagnosed, or they have dyslexia or some other learning disorder.” He bobbled his head slightly. “Well, our goal here will be to try to fix those problems, and teach them how to read and write. And who knows, maybe get ‘em off the street altogether at some point down the road…”

Mike had sat back, his hands in his lap, staring at Neil with a mixture of awe and pride.   
Steve knew that his partner was almost too overwhelmed to talk at the moment, and he cleared his throat, diverting Neil’s attention. “That sounds like a very… ambitious goal.”

Neil chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he shrugged, “but why the hell not, right? I mean, why not aim high, right? And even if we only end up helping one or two people, well, I think it would still all be worth it, wouldn’t you?” He stared at the younger man, as if daring him to contradict the simply philosophy. 

Steve stared back, a knowing smile on his face, and eventually he nodded.

Neil looked at Mike. “So what do you think? What do you think your daughter would say?”

Mike swallowed heavily. “Are you kidding? She’s going to be over the moon.”

“Good. She’s the one that got the ball rolling, you know, with the expansion and getting the restaurants involved and all that. She’s deserves credit for having the vision, that’s for sure.”

“And you’ve really kept the ball rolling, that’s for sure.” Mike’s brow furrowed. “So, ah, so what are you getting out of all this?”

Neil stared back, his smile suddenly enigmatic. “Besides the satisfaction?”

“Yeah, besides the satisfaction.” 

Mike’s confrontation seemed out of character, considering the circumstances, and Steve glanced at his partner with a surprised frown. He watched the sudden silent standoff with a held breath.

Neil grinned. “They, ah, The City has asked me to be the, ah… well, I guess you could call it the principal. I’m gonna run the whole operation from top to bottom, except for the actual teaching. That I’m gonna leave to the people who know what they’re doing,” he chuckled. “And they’re going to give me a stipend… enough for me to get myself my own little apartment nearby…”

Mike’s face split into a wide grin and he laughed softly, raising his right hand to cover his mouth as his eyes brightened with surprise and delight. He looked down and swallowed heavily. “Well,” he started quietly, raising his head slowly to stare at the beaming man sitting on the small chair across from him, “I have to say it couldn’t happen to a more deserving guy… it really couldn’t.” He snorted gently. “Wow…” he breathed, and Steve could almost feel him vibrating with barely controlled elation. 

He wanted to reach out and run a hand up and down Mike’s back, a move he knew always helped to ground his sometimes overly emotional partner, but he was too far away. So he stared instead, hoping Mike was cognizant of the unexpressed support.

Neil, squirming slightly under the benevolent scrutiny, chuckled and sat back, hoping to break the suddenly uncomfortable silence. “So, ah, that’s it. That’s what we’re trying to accomplish here.”

Steve tore his eyes away from his still slightly stunned partner and looked at Neil. “Your life has changed a hell of a lot in the past few weeks, that’s for sure.” He looked around the room admiringly.

Neil laughed as he stood up. “Yeah. And you know the funny thing?” He looked at Mike, who was still sitting, still looking a bit shell-shocked. “If Carol Stayner hadn’t gone after you, all this -“ he gestured around the soon-to-be classroom, “well, we wouldn’t have this. All this came about because of what Carol Stayner and her brother did - and because of what you two did to stop them. So, ah,” he shrugged, “so you two are just as responsible for this as anybody…”

Mike smiled, looking up at his partner, who had stood. “Well, I don’t know about Steve, but I sure can live with that.”

The younger man chuckled. “Me too.” He raised his hand to touch his chest lightly. “It was worth it.”

Neil laughed. “Glad to hear that, ‘cause I was worried about you,” he looked at Mike then Steve, “both of you. I’m really happy to see you both up and about.”

“Well, we’re still on sick leave,” Mike sighed as he got slowly to his feet, “and we will be for a couple more weeks at least…” He bobbled his head in resignation, sighing heavily, and both Neil and Steve chuckled. “Listen, ah,” he looked from one to the other, “why don’t you take a break and I’ll take you and Steve out to lunch. How does that sound?”

Steve looked at Neil and grinned, his eyebrows on the rise. “Oh, I never turn down a Mike Stone lunch invitation. They’re rarer than hen’s teeth.”

“Hey!” the older man growled, raising his right hand as if to smack the back of his partner’s head and Steve ducked carefully, chuckling. 

Neil laughed warmly, grinning. “Then I guess I have to say, let’s go!”

Still chuckling, Steve led the way to the front door, glancing back over his shoulder at his partner, who was following him with narrowed eyes and a low, playful growl.

# # # # #

Mike stood at his front window, staring out on the bright, sunny Monday morning. He could see the downtown skyline way off in the distance, the unmistakable silhouette of the Transamerica Pyramid that had transformed The City’s profile just a few years ago and had now become San Francisco’s most iconic building.

He finished the last of his coffee and strolled back to the kitchen, rinsing the cup out before setting it in the sink. He returned to the living room and the front door. He slipped his sportscoat from a hanger in the closet and put it on, then picked up the keys from the nearby table with a smile. Sandra Healey had stopped by the house yesterday to return them ceremonially, and to give him a last once-over to assure herself that he was well on the mend and fit to drive once more.

He picked up a couple of things from the table and slid them into his right jacket pocket, put his fedora on, then left the house, automatically checking the mailbox beside the front door after he locked it. He took the stairs slowly, deep in thought.

Steve had called him the previous night. He said he was going to leave early this morning to take Jennifer north to Sonoma for their wine tour, with the promise to pick up the case of Riesling Mike had requested.

Traffic was fairly heavy as he headed east, taking the Bay Bridge into Oakland, but as he was going against the flow, it wasn’t a big problem. The I-80 turn into the 580 and he stepped on the gas, letting the blue sedan cruise along just over the speed limit as he headed southeast.

It was a beautiful day for a drive, he thought, and he reached down to touch the items in his jacket pocket, as if assuring himself they were there. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t have asked for more perfect weather, but there was a tightness in his chest, a trepidation he never expected to feel. A line from a Robert Frost poem kept echoing through his mind.

In an effort to distract himself, he snapped on the radio and fiddled with the knob until he found a station whose music he could tolerate, then he rolled the window down and allowed the wind to buffet him as he sped along the highway, putting mile after mile between himself and The City he loved so dearly.


	80. Chapter 80

“So, like I said, we had no idea Carol Stayner was Brother Samuel’s - wait, sorry, I want to use his real name. He’s an honest-to-God preacher about as much as I’m a Russian ballerina… Benjamin Sykes. So we had no idea she was Sykes’ sister, and here I am giving Neil a hand putting the kids desks together and I’m looking for nails. And what do I find but a baseball bat in a closet up in the office… Yeah, that baseball bat, it turns out. But I wasn’t sure, it was too dark to see ‘cause the place had no electricity, right? So there was no light. 

“So I decided to put the bat back until I could get a warrant and look at it legally, in case it was one of our murder weapons, and I take a step back and - wham! She hit me. Carol. Turns out it was with one of the desk legs - which is kind of ironic… or creepy… whatever. I woke up when my partner and our undercovers found me. She’d locked me in the closet, can you believe that? Turns out the damn cast from my broken wrist saved me, can you believe that? Talk about irony.

“So, anyway, that’s why I’m on ‘sick leave’ - they want to make sure my head is… ha, I was gonna say screwed on straight but… that my concussion is healed before they let me back on the streets. Steve on sick leave too, for different reasons, of course… He, ah, wow, he went above and beyond trying to find me, let me tell you. He was still recovering from what happened to him at the warehouse. I swear to god he was bruised from his head to his feet after that, he was pretty beat up… but that didn’t stop him from climbing in a second-storey window then getting into a fight with Sykes when he and his sister… showed up unexpectedly…

“They, ah, they were coming to kill me, to finish me off and dump my body somewhere… but my, ah, my partner stopped them…. He paid a price… He, ah… he broke some ribs and his lung collapsed… He, ah… he was in the hospital for a few days and he’s still recovering but he’s doing a lot better. As a matter of fact, he took his girlfriend up to Sonoma for a few days. They left this morning. They’re doing one of those wine tours, you know?

“And that’s another story…. That girlfriend of his…. Jennifer’s her name. She’s a real beauty. I’ve only met her a couple of times and she seems nice… but, well, just between you and me, I don’t think it’s gonna last. I think she’s a little too… well, a little too superficial for him. Of course, he hasn’t figured that out yet, I think he’s still a little too… bedazzled by her looks, if you know what I mean. I think this week they’re gonna spend together out of town will be a real test for them. I have a feeling we’ll find out when they get back at the end of the week. I just hope he remembers to pick up the case of wine I asked him to get for me…

“Anyway, ah, so we did solve those homeless murders… unintentionally… but hey, I’ll take a win anyway I can get it. The case is out of our hands now, of course, with Steve and me on the sidelines for another couple of weeks, and that’s frustrating as hell. But we’ll be involved again if and when it goes to trial.

“We’re still trying to find out why the murders happened. So far nobody in Brother Samuel’s… congregation, coven, I don’t know what you want to call it… anyway, none of them are talking, including the good Brother himself. But our psychiatrist has a theory. I don’t know how right he is, but, well, I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. 

“You see, the weird thing about it all - well, maybe it’s not weird but… well, all of Brother Samuel’s… flock were women, middle-aged women. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but, well, you know, after Manson and his… cult, I guess we all look at this kinda thing through that lens now…. But, unlike Manson, Samuel didn’t do anything to his women that we’re aware of yet. Well, nothing physical that we know of - nothing sexual, nothing violent… they just… followed him, like supplicants.

“And our psychiatrist thinks that maybe this was exactly what Sykes wanted, people to follow him, people to look up to him as their leader, as their god. And there’s the possibility he had very good… radar, I guess you could call it, for finding women who were vulnerable, who were easily persuaded or brain-washed into believing he was the one person - in the world possibly - who really cared about them and made them feel important and wanted… and needed…

“A couple of the women in his flock, we’ve since found out, were with a couple of the men who were murdered. Almost common law spouses, I guess you could call them… Anyway, our shrink thinks that the act of killing the men in front of the women made the women even more dependent on Brother Samuel, that he probably told them he had ‘saved’ them from their abusers and, you know, if you repeat something over and over enough, especially to people who are vulnerable or mentally unstable to begin with, that they’ll eventually believe it… and, well, they think this is maybe what’s happened here…

“I guess it kinda makes sense to me… I’m not sure. I’m gonna have to give it a lot more thought before I make my mind up one way or the other. This one is a real… head-scratcher, I guess you could call it. On the one hand, Benjamin Sykes and his sister were murderous monsters… but on the other hand, he looked after the women in his flock with genuine concern, almost love, and he was a paragon of virtue in his neighborhood, a benevolent helping hand… and Carol, she set up that school and taught all those kids…. What’s that old saying about every cloud having a silver lining…?

“Steve thinks I see the bright side of things a little too much sometimes… I don’t know. I’ve always been an optimist, I guess. I’ve always tried to find the… the good in people, I guess you could call it. And I’m too old to change now, that’s for sure.

“I wish you could’ve met him… Steve. You two had a lot in common, I think you could’ve been friends. You just took different paths, that’s all. 

“And you know, I’ve been thinking about that… and the earthquake. It, ah… well, if it hadn’t happened, you’d still be here.., but if it hadn’t happened, I never would’ve met you either. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, believe me…. And, you know, I could’ve lived with that, not meting you, if it meant you were still… you know…

“Hey, listen to me, hunh? I haven’t stopped talking since I sat down. Sorry… guess I’ve got a lot on my mind…”

Taking a deep unsteady breath, Mike leaned back, unwrapping his arms from around his knees and leaning back on his hands. He looked around. 

“It’s really kinda flat here, isn’t it? Flat and stark… but I guess that’s appropriate in a way. I’ve never been down here before…”

He pushed himself to a sitting position and crossed his legs, smiling slightly to himself with the knowledge he was still able to do that comfortably at his age. He smiled. “Oh, ah, I, ah, I brought you a little something,” he chuckled warmly as he reached into his jacket pocket and took out Jeannie’s small tape recorder. He set it on the grass in front of him and opened the lid then looked at the flat, light grey granite headstone. He took a small cassette case out of his pocket, opened it and slipped the cassette into the recorder. “I hope you didn’t think I forgot…”

With a warm smile, he pressed the Play button and the play head clicked into position. After couple of silent seconds, the opening bars of ‘Nessun Dorma’ softly began and he uncrossed his legs, raising his knees and resting his forearms atop them as he looked out over the military graveyard with the precisely even rows of recessed headstones. When Luciano Pavarotti’s unmistakable tenor voice filled the air around him and wafted across the desolate landscape, he dropped his head onto his arms and wept.


End file.
